


The Mysterious Mr. Barrow

by wenchofthewest



Category: Downton Abbey, Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dementia, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Relationships With Parents, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, War PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenchofthewest/pseuds/wenchofthewest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New to Downton, Jimmy Kent finds Thomas Barrow strange.  Thomas finds Jimmy annoying.  But as they learn more about each other, a mutual admiration grows that finally ignites into love.  Their resulting passion has life-changing consequences, however, and the two end up in a bizarre situation they never could've imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've tweaked the initial dynamic between Thomas and Jimmy just a bit, and also rearranged and modified story events and dialogue for my own purposes.
> 
> Let's hope it all works because I sure had fun doing it. :)
> 
> Again, do leave feedback because I learn from it. If you like this, let me know. If you don't, let me know.
> 
> It's all good....

"You look a bit puzzled," said Miss O'Brien, observing Jimmy Kent standing in the downstairs hallway, just outside the servants' hall.

"I am," Jimmy replied. "Mr. Carson’s asked me to wind the clocks."

"You must be doing well," said O'Brien. "In this house, that marks you out as first footman more than anything could."

"That’s just it," Jimmy said. "I said thank you right away, but I know nothin' 'bout clocks."

"You better ask Mr. Barrow," said O'Brien. "He’s the clock expert. He used to wind them, but of course it’s quite wrong for a valet to do it."

"Mr. Barrow won’t mind?"

"Oh no," O'Brien said, grinning. "I can see he likes you and that’s good, seeing as he’s got the ear of his Lordship."

"Yes, I suppose he would have," Jimmy mused.

"I’d keep in with him, if I were you," O'Brien advised.

"I will. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it."

Ask Mr. Barrow for help? Jimmy would sooner have asked Atilla the Hun. Not that Thomas was difficult or rude, he was just... well, _strange_. Jimmy would often catch the man staring at him when he thought he wasn't looking. Those pale-blue eyes seemed to be studying him as if he were a science exhibit or an animal in the zoo.

It gave Jimmy a creepy feeling.

It'd started the moment they'd met, the day Jimmy came to Downton to interview for the footman position several months prior.

"Who's this?" Thomas had asked when he'd first laid eyes on Jimmy in the servants' hall. Jimmy was being ogled by the maids while waiting to interview with Mr. Carson. He was used to such attention from women.

"Jimmy Kent, at yer service," he'd responded.

"I'm Mr. Barrow, His Lordship's valet," Thomas had said, smiling, but still the very picture of cool professionalism. Thomas had quickly looked Jimmy over with those arresting eyes, obviously taking in every detail of his appearance.

Immediately, Jimmy had felt exposed, as if he were standing there starkers. He'd felt a shiver run down his spine. He'd glanced up at the ceiling, hoping for the speedy return of Mr. Carson....

And then later, after he'd been hired, when he'd been in his room struggling with that damned livery....

"You got the job then?" a voice had said behind him. Mr. Barrow had been standing at the doorway watching him. Again, Jimmy had felt uneasy, but he'd put on a charming grin.

"I’m on my way, Mr. Barrow," he'd said breezily. "They say you were a footman once."

"That’s right."

Jimmy had puffed up and tried to look confident. "So, can I come to you if there’s anything I need to know?"

"Certainly," Mr. Barrow had replied coolly. "Why not?" Then he'd walked away.

Jimmy had sighed heavily and dropped the grin from his face.

_Get a grip, Kent_ , he'd told himself. _You're the one who does the intimidating, remember...?_

It'd been that way ever since. Jimmy just got the feeling that Thomas was thinking _too much_ whenever he looked at Jimmy, and for some reason he was very curious to know _what_.

  
Jimmy finally screwed up his courage and found Thomas in the boot room cleaning His Lordship's shoes.

"Excuse me, Mr. Barrow, do ya have a minute?" he asked.

Thomas looked up from the shoes. Seeing Jimmy, he smiled. "Of course."

"I've been asked to wind the clocks, and I've no idea how t'go 'bout it," Jimmy said. "Miss O'Brien said you were the clock expert."

"I suppose I am," Thomas said, looking amused. "For what it's worth."

"It's worth a great deal t'me at the moment," Jimmy said, flashing another charming grin.

"Let's start with the grandfather clock in the upstairs hallway," Thomas said, setting down the shoe he'd been working on. Jimmy followed him. Thomas had a smooth, self-assured way of walking. His posture was perfect, and his moves were very graceful.

Thomas opened the case of the clock face and nodded for Jimmy to step forward. He did, and Thomas moved to stand right behind him. Jimmy felt himself tense up.

"Raise your hand to the clock face," Thomas said over the footman's shoulder. He complied. Thomas reached around, put his hand over Jimmy's, and guided it as they wound the clock. Thomas' face was so close to Jimmy's ear that Jimmy could smell the valet's cologne and hair pomade. It wasn't an unpleasant mix.

"There," Thomas said suddenly. "You feel a slight increase in the resistance?"

"I think so."

Thomas placed his gloved hand on Jimmy's shoulder. Jimmy had noticed the glove shortly after he'd started at Downton. It was a sort of half-glove thing that covered the palm of Thomas' hand. Jimmy wondered what it was hiding.

"That’s what you’re watching for," Thomas continued. "Never go past the point where the clock is comfortable."

"Ya make it sound like a livin' thing," Jimmy commented.

"Ah, clocks are living things," Thomas said in a soft, almost intimate voice. "My dad was a clockmaker. Grew up with clocks. I understand them. Never wind them in the early morning before a room is warmed up, nor too late, when the night air might cool them down. Find a time when the family’s out of the room."

"Why didn't _you_ become a clockmaker, Mr. Barrow?" Jimmy asked. He was just as surprised as Thomas when he heard the question, as it'd just popped out.

Thomas was silent, and Jimmy began to feel uncomfortable. He rambled on:

"It's just tha', well, it would seem a natural fit, what with yer dad makin' clocks and you understandin' 'em n' all...."

Thomas removed his hand from Jimmy's shoulder and stepped back with a flourish. He looked down for a moment, composing himself, then up at Jimmy. His eyes were more guarded than usual.

"It's a rather complicated topic, my father and I," he said with a tight smile. "Suffice it to say I ended up in service instead."

Jimmy considered apologizing for being impertinent, but he didn't do apologies very well, so he said nothing. He met Thomas' gaze, those crystalline eyes. The man seemed to be thinking, and once again, Jimmy was dying to know _what_....


	2. Chapter 2

Some evenings, Jimmy would play the piano in the servants' hall. He'd usually play popular tunes or rags. That night he played Chopin's Andante Spianato. Thomas leaned against the piano to listen. Jimmy played the entire piece flawlessly. Upon finishing, he rubbed his hands on his thighs.

"Impressive," said Thomas. "I like Chopin."

"So did m'mum," said Jimmy. "I was classically trained and learned all his pieces. Seven years. Hated the lessons at first but grew to love 'em."

"Why didn't you become a professional pianist?"

Jimmy looked up at Thomas. "Because I need to eat."

"Musicians earn decent livings," said Thomas. "Good ones do, anyway. And you are _good_."

"So do good clockmakers," Jimmy said, grinning his curly grin. Thomas didn't look charmed or amused. Instead he cocked an eyebrow and went to sit at the big table. Jimmy joined him. It was the first time they'd ever sat alone together at the table. Thomas lit up a cigarette.

"I was joking," said Jimmy. "Didn't mean no offense."

"None taken." Thomas blew out a stream of smoke. "So, you mentioned your mum, past tense...."

"She died of the flu a few years ago. Lost m'dad in the war."

Thomas looked sympathetic. "Any brothers or sisters?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I'm an only child. Got cousins, but I never see 'em."

"On your own, eh?" Thomas said, surprisingly kind. Jimmy had never heard him sound like that before. He nodded. It was difficult to talk about his parents and being alone.

"What 'bout you?" he asked.

Thomas sucked in his cheeks as he took another drag and exhaled the smoke. He spread out his arms, resting his hands on the table. "Parents dead, got an older sister I never see, and one cousin I was close to as a child. He now lives in India."

"Sounds like yer on yer own, too," said Jimmy.

Thomas tapped off his ashes. "That I am."

Then Jimmy said something else he had no idea he was going to say. It just popped out. "I wish I had yer confidence, Mr. Barrow."

Thomas was taken completely off guard. He looked at his cigarette and then met Jimmy's gaze. For a split second, Jimmy thought he saw tears in the pale blue, but then Thomas grinned wryly, and Jimmy was sure he'd been mistaken.

"You seem to have a fair amount," Thomas said.

"Looks can hide a lot," Jimmy said. His eyes met Thomas' again, and he saw compassion there. Jimmy's stomach did an odd sort of flutter, and he could feel his face growing warm. He was _blushing_. He chuckled and stood up. Thomas' eyes followed him.

"'Night, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said, quickly turning away.

"Good night, Jimmy," Thomas said softly.

@@@

The Granthams had a dinner party the following night, with a beautiful roast carved and arranged neatly on a platter. There were potatoes and greens, too, around the slices, which highlighted the deep burgundy of the meat. It was almost too pretty too eat, and Mrs. Patmore was most proud of her work.

Alfred picked up the platter and began to head for the stairs. Jimmy intercepted him.

"Mr. Carson has _me_ windin' the clocks," he said. "Tha' means _I'm_ first footman, and _I_ serve the meat." He tried to take the platter from Alfred.

"I've heard nothin' of the sort," said Alfred, holding on firmly. "Until I do, _I'm_ servin' the meat."

Jimmy tugged at the handles. " _Give_ it to me," he hissed. Alfred didn't yield.

So began a tug of war, with Alfred and Jimmy both yanking at the platter with their white-gloved hands. As they pulled, the patter shook, ruining the perfect arrangement of sliced meat and vegetables. A few baby potatoes dropped to the floor and rolled away.

Mrs. Patmore ran over and threw up her arms. "Now _look_ what you two have done with yer bickering! Ya've ruined m'masterpiece! I'll have to fix it, bring it back here, Alfred!"

"It was Jimmy's fault!" Alfred exclaimed, returning the platter to the kitchen. "He kept tryin' to grab it away!"

" _I'm_ first footman, ya big ninny!"

Just then, Carson came downstairs. " _What_ is the hold up?" he bellowed. "I've poured the wine, now _where_ is the meat???"

"There's been a bit of a disagreement over who should be servin' it," said Mrs. Patmore, fixing the platter.

Carson looked at both footman. "Alfred, _you_ will take up the roast, and James, _you_ will take the green beans."

Alfred shot Jimmy a triumphant look and picked up the platter. He headed for the stairs.

Jimmy's mouth went slack, and his blue eyes grew large. "But Mr. Carson, I'm--"

" _James!!!_ " Mr. Carson yelled, glaring at Jimmy. " _Do_ as you are _told!_ "

Jimmy clenched his teeth. His jaw twitched with fury, and his eyes flashed fire. He looked like he might explode with rage. He glanced at Thomas, who was leaning in the doorway of the butler's pantry calmly watching the whole fiasco. If Jimmy had been hoping for a show of support (which he was), he was out of luck. Thomas gave him a look of complete disgust, shook his head, and retreated into the pantry, closing the door behind him.

Jimmy grabbed the green beans and stormed upstairs, pouting all the way.

@@@

Later on Thomas was outside smoking, when Jimmy joined him and immediately started complaining about the events from earlier.

"Mr. Carson doesn't like me," he whined. "He _always_ takes Alfred's side. It's  _not_ bloody _fair_."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Jimmy and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. Jimmy kept right on bitching.

" _I'm_ first footman, and _I_ should be servin' the meat. Alfred took tha' platter 'cause he _knows_ he can get away with it. He knows Mr. Carson won't do anythin' 'cause he's the favorite. It's a flippin' insult. Just 'cause he's ten foot tall. I've got a good mind to--"

Thomas dropped the freshly lit cigarette and ground it out with his shoe.

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting Jimmy's rant. He began to walk back towards the house.

"Wait," said Jimmy. "Where're ya goin'?"

"I have better things to do than listen to this."

"What d'ya mean?"

Thomas kept walking.

"Mr. Barrow...?"

Thomas put up his hand to silence Jimmy and continued into the house.

@@@

"The delivery truck broke down yesterday," Mr. Carson said at breakfast the following morning, "and the repairs won't be completed until tomorrow, as a part had to be ordered down from London."

Everyone was eating, except for Thomas, who'd finished and was reading the paper.

"Mr. Barrow, His Lordship needs his cigars and a gift he'd ordered from the bookstore for tonight. You should walk into town to pick up those items this morning."

"I'll do it right after breakfast, Mr. Carson," Thomas replied, not looking up from his paper.

"Mrs. Patmore also needs a few things for tonight's dinner," Carson continued. "The order is waiting at the grocers, and you should bring that back, as well."

"How large is the order?" Thomas asked, looking up.

"Large enough that you'll require assistance," replied Mr. Carson. "James, you will accompany Mr. Barrow to help him carry the order."

Jimmy glanced at Thomas over his cup of tea. Thomas met his gaze and didn't smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were amused.

 _An errand with the strange Mr. Barrow_ , Jimmy thought with a sinking feeling. _Should be one, big, bloomin' jolly...._


	3. Chapter 3

There was just the crunching of gravel as Thomas and Jimmy walked in silence down the drive towards the road.

"Not sure what I did to make ya angry with me, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy finally said.

"I'm not angry with you, Jimmy," Thomas replied.

"Ya walked away in the middle of our conversation last night," Jimmy said.

" _Your_ conversation," Thomas said, smirking, "and I properly excused myself."

Jimmy glanced away. He could feel his cheeks burning. He breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly.

"Lovely mornin', ain't it?"

"That it is," Thomas said.

The conversation continued along these mundane lines until they reached the village.

They picked up His Lordship's cigars first, then the book, and finally the groceries. They'd brought along several canvas shoulder sacks to carry everything in. They split the load between them and packed everything into the sacks.

Then Jimmy decided he wanted donuts.

"I'll watch the sacks while you get your treats," Thomas said, sitting on a bench. His eyes followed Jimmy as the footman bounded eagerly towards the bakery.

The scent hit Jimmy the moment he opened the door, and with it came a flood of lovely memories. As a child, every outing had concluded with a bakery stop, whether it was church, shopping, or walking with his father. Jimmy remembered sharing his treat with his dad (he'd _always_ want a taste), holding it to his lips and keeping it steady as Dad took a bite. Mum would always eat just _half_ of her treat and give the rest to Jimmy. Cupcakes, tarts, donuts.... Bakeries were symbols of happiness and contentment to Jimmy, and he never missed an opportunity to slip into one, even just for a few minutes....

"Six of the glazed donuts, please," Jimmy told the woman behind the counter.

The woman smiled at the handsome footman and put the donuts in a bag. "Threw in an extra one fer ya, love," she said.

Jimmy winked at her. "Yer a love."

Always, always, women gave him free things....

Jimmy returned to where Thomas sat guarding the sacks.

"Those certainly smell good," the valet commented.

"Care fer one?" Jimmy offered, holding out the bag.

"No, but thank you, anyway, Jimmy."

During the walk back, Jimmy ate several of his donuts. Thomas kept casually glancing at him, not so much interested in the treats as how Jimmy looked while eating them. First he licked off the sugar, running his tongue around the top, humming while he did it. White sugar flakes stuck to his lips. Then he broke off pieces of donut and popped them into his mouth, his boyish face registering pure bliss with each bite. He narrowed his eyes, and the sun glinted off the tips of his long, blond lashes. Thomas' gaze kept returning to the sugar flakes clinging to Jimmy's lips, which were as plump as the donuts but _far_ more tempting....

A sudden noise from behind brought Thomas out of his trance. He turned to see a small pig following them. He grinned. "Looks like we have company."

Jimmy glanced back and also grinned.

"That pig must smell those donuts," Thomas continued.

"Well, he can't have 'em," Jimmy said, popping another piece into his mouth.

Thomas looked at the pig more carefully. "It's a young sow."

Jimmy looked around again, clicked his tongue, and tossed the pig a small piece of donut. She greedily gobbled it up, squealing with delight.

"Sounds like you made her day," Thomas said, chuckling.

Soon, the pig was joined by two other small females. The two men continued to walk, and the pigs stayed right behind them.

"You're a regular pig pied piper," Thomas commented.

Jimmy tossed out a few more donut bits, and the sows devoured them, squealing madly.

Suddenly, three boars came charging out of the bushes, and Jimmy was caught in the middle of a pig feeding frenzy. Thomas pushed aside the pigs with his leg and pulled Jimmy from the fray.

" _Hurry!_ " Thomas said, dragging Jimmy along behind him as he practically ran down the road. It was difficult to move quickly, so weighted down were they by the sacks.

The boars scurried after them, followed by the sows. The two men ditched the sacks in some bushes and took off running into the woods, pursued by the boars.

"Drop the donuts, Jimmy!" Thomas called as they ran. " _That's_ what they're after!"

Instead Jimmy stuck the bag down the front his jacket and ran even faster.

Thomas spotted an ancient oak with gnarled, low branches. He climbed onto the lowest branch and started moving up to a higher one. Jimmy followed but slipped on a knot, tearing his trousers and scraping his knee against the rough bark. He yelped in pain. Thomas stopped climbing and reached down to pull Jimmy up. Then he moved on to a different branch.

The pigs were oinking and squealing at the base of the oak. They began slamming the massive trunk and tearing at the roots with their hooves.

Thomas was clinging to the branch, trying to catch his breath. " _Give_ them the donuts!" he yelled at Jimmy.

Jimmy bit his lip and hesitated.

"Bloody _hell_ ," yelled Thomas. "I'll buy you a whole _dozen!_ "

" _Shite!_ " Jimmy pulled out the bag and angrily threw it down to the pigs. He groaned mournfully as the animals ripped apart the bag and fought over its delicious contents, making a horrible ruckus.

Thomas pulled himself up onto the branch, reclined comfortably against the trunk, and lit up a smoke. He glanced down at the pig frenzy and grinned. "They remind me of you and Alfred fighting over the roast last night."

Jimmy gave Thomas a dirty look. Then his eyes flew open with realization. "Is _tha'_ what you were mad about???"

Thomas looked disgusted. "A chap who can make music like _you_ can, with your _talent_ , fighting over serving a bloody roast!"

"Well, it marks me as first footman," said Jimmy. "I'm in this job, and I want to do well so I can advance. Maybe even become a valet...like _you_."

Thomas looked thoughtful and blew out a stream of smoke. "There are ways to manage these things, Jimmy, but _not_ by losing your temper."

"'Still no call fer ya t'walk away while I was talkin'," said Jimmy. "It were quite _rude_."

"I left because I didn't want hear your bloody _whining_."

"I wasn't whinin'," Jimmy declared indignantly. "I was speakin' out."

"Sounded like whining to me," Thomas said. "All that talk about things not being fair. Who ever told you life was _fair?_ "

"M'mum said--" Jimmy stopped. He didn't want to sound ridiculous, telling Mr. Barrow all about what his "mummy" had told him.

Thomas' expression softened. He tapped his ashes down onto the pigs. "Go on...."

Jimmy took a deep breath. "My mum used t'call me her little prince. I look just like her, always have. She used t'say I could do anythin' I put m'mind to. That I should never let anythin' stand in m'way. She said I should always respect m'self n' make sure others respected me, too. That I were good as anybody n' special."

Thomas was studying Jimmy again. His eyes were kind. "That's lovely, Jimmy. Truly. It's the way parents should be, building up their children, because the world will do all it can to tear them down."

"Didn't yer parents say such things t'ya?" Jimmy asked.

"That wasn't their way," Thomas replied. "My mum was all right. But my dad and I had... issues."

"Like what?" said Jimmy.

"He didn't approve of me."

"Why?"

Thomas was quiet. He looked away and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Mr. Barrow, _why_ are you always _starin'_ at me?" Once again, Jimmy had caught Thomas completely off guard.

The valet looked rather startled.

Jimmy continued. "I see you watchin' me out of the corner of m'eye all the time. Even as we were walkin' just now,--" He gestured at the pigs "--before _this_."

Thomas blushed pink. "I'm not going to tell you, you're vain enough already. Look, our friends are leaving."

The pigs had finished their feast, including the bag, and the animals sauntered away, snouts covered with donut and dirt, haunches twitching.

After they were well out of sight, Jimmy climbed down. His knee was bleeding, and his pant leg stuck to the blood. As Thomas descended, the branch nub he was using as a step broke, and he fell hard on his foot, twisting it.

"Argh, _shite!!!_ "

"Mr. Barrow! Are you hurt???"

Thomas' face twisted in pain. "I think I sprained my ankle." He tried putting weight on the foot and nearly collapsed. "Argh, yes, I sprained it bloody _good_."

"Let me help ya, sir."

Jimmy slipped under Thomas' arm so it lay across his shoulders and took the valet's hand in his own. His other arm slid around Thomas' back. The position felt surprisingly _good_ to Jimmy--almost _natural_ \--as if the two men  _belonged_ this way. It reminded him of when they'd wound the clock together, that pleasant scent of cologne and pomade. Thomas appeared a bit flustered, which Jimmy had never seen before. Their heads were nearly touching, and Thomas glanced at Jimmy, who still had that sugar all around his mouth.... He quickly looked away.

Slowly, Jimmy began to walk. "Easy, Mr. Barrow...."

Thomas hobbled along on his good foot. "Thank you, Jimmy."

When they reached the discarded sacks, Jimmy carefully set Thomas down on a stump. "I'll get them." Jimmy gathered up the sacks and slung them over their bodies like pack animals. Slowly the two men resumed the walk back to Downton, which was very slow going, indeed....

"Take yer time," Jimmy said soothingly. "We're in no rush."

"Mr. Carson will wonder where we are...," Thomas said wryly.

"Tha' big cheese can just _wait_ ," Jimmy declared.

Thomas had to chuckle.

@@@

"What on _Earth???_ " Mr. Carson exclaimed as Thomas, supported by Jimmy, limped in through the back door. He, Mr. Molesley, and Mrs. Hughes gawked at the disheveled valet and footman: clothes dirty and askew, Jimmy's bloody knee, Thomas' wild hair, sacks covered with twigs and leaves hanging off them.

"We were chased by wild boars, Mr. Carson," Thomas said, grimacing.

"You were _what???_ "

"It's true, sir," said Jimmy. He lowered Thomas into a chair and began removing the sacks. "We had to climb a tree and stay there until they left." He didn't mention the donuts, and neither did Thomas.

"You were injured, Mr. Barrow?" asked Mrs. Hughes.

"I sprained my ankle climbing out of the tree," Thomas replied. "Branch broke and I landed on it wrong."

"Should I call Dr. Clarkson?"

"No, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas answered. "Ice, compression, elevation, and rest. That's all it needs." Thomas got to his feet, and Jimmy quickly slipped under his arm again.

"Let me help you," Mr. Molesley said, moving to Thomas' other arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Molesley," Thomas said. Mr. Molesley and Jimmy proceeded to slowly and carefully take Thomas upstairs and set him on his bed.

Then Jimmy went to his own room to change.

"Jimmy...," Thomas called a few minutes later. "Come let me clean and dress that scrape."

Jimmy had just taken off his trousers. He slipped into his dressing gown and went back to Thomas' room. The valet was sitting on the bed in his undershirt and trousers with the first-aid kit open beside him.  He motioned for Jimmy to join him. Jimmy complied and raised his leg for Thomas to see. The scrape was large, covering most of the knee, marring the golden smoothness of Jimmy's skin.

"Been a long time since I climbed trees," Jimmy said, grinning.

"That makes two of us," Thomas said, working on the wound. His touch was gentle, almost tender, as he held Jimmy's knee and cleaned it with moist cotton. Then he soaked a piece in alcohol. "This is going to sting," he warned, glancing up at Jimmy, "a _lot_."

Indeed it did, and Jimmy hissed. Thomas blew on the wound gently. Then he expertly dressed it.

You've done this before, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy commented.

"I was medic during the war," Thomas replied.

" _Really?_ "

Thomas glanced up and grinned. "Yes, _really_."

"Is tha' how ya hurt yer hand?" Jimmy asked.

"How did you know I hurt my hand?"

"Well, it's always covered," said Jimmy. "I assumed ya injured it somehow. Was it durin' the war?"

"Yes...."

"How?"

Thomas looked at Jimmy again. "You certainly ask a lot of questions."

"M'mum said I was inquisitive," Jimmy said.

" _Nosy_ is more like it."

@@@

That evening, Jimmy brought Thomas up a supper tray. Thomas was lying in bed with his ankle wrapped, elevated, and packed with cold compresses. He put down the paper he was reading and straightened up.

Jimmy approached the bed with the tray. "Hope yer hungry, Mr. Barrow." His lips curled up at the corners. "We're havin'... _pork_."

Thomas' red lips twitched, and his gray eyes twinkled. "Anyone we _know?_ "

Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing. Jimmy noticed for the first time that Thomas had a lovely smile, with perfect, white teeth....

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident with the pigs/boars is based on the true story of a friend of mine who was indeed chased up a tree by feral pigs in California. lol....


	4. Chapter 4

The staff was gathered in the servants' hall awaiting the birth of Lady Sybil's baby. She'd been in labor most of the day and all evening. Here it was close to ten, and still no baby....

Jimmy sat next to Thomas at the table playing with his card deck. Thomas had just fired up yet another smoke.

"Show us a card trick, Jimmy," he said.

Jimmy tried to think of one he hadn't shown them already and drew a blank. He was bored and tired of sitting. He wished Lady Sybil would deliver her kid already so he could go to bed....

Mr. Carson walked in, smiling broadly. "That’s it! The baby is born!"

There was a collective sigh of relief around the table and a few cheers.

"It’s a girl," Carson continued. "Now you can all go to bed."

Jimmy and Thomas exchanged grins as they stood up. Thomas stubbed out his cigarette.

"Do ya like Lady Sybil?" Jimmy asked.

"I do," Thomas replied. "We worked together at the hospital during the war. So I know her better than all of them, really. She’s a lovely person."

"Married the chauffeur, did she?" Jimmy asked.

Thomas nodded. "Yes...." He wasn't exactly _fond_ of Tom Branson.

"Bully for her." Jimmy said.

@@@

Later that night, Jimmy was awakened by noise outside his room. Suddenly, the door opened, and Alfred poked his head inside.

"Jimmy!"

"What is it?" Jimmy asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Something's happened! Come downstairs!"

Jimmy jumped out of bed, grabbed his dressing gown, and joined the others headed to the servants' hall. When he got there, he looked around the room. Everyone was in their dressing gowns, with hair askew. It was strange to see the entire staff gathered together in this state.

Mr. Carson stood at the head of the table with a grave face. His voice shook as he spoke. "There were serious complications after Lady Sybil gave birth. As a result, she has passed away."

Gasps of shock and disbelief rose throughout the room. Most of the staff were silent but wore sad or stunned expressions.

Jimmy looked at Thomas, whose expressive face showed his utter devastation.

"Is there anything we should do, Mr. Carson?" Daisy asked meekly.

"Carry on, Daisy," said Mr. Carson. "As we all must...."

Visibly shaken and distraught, Thomas left the servants’ hall. He passed Mrs. Hughes, who was trying comfort a crying Daisy. Suddenly, he sagged against the wall and began sobbing.

Anna approached him. "Thomas?"

Thomas sniffled. "I don’t know why I’m crying really. She wouldn’t have noticed if I died."

"You don’t mean that," Anna said.

Thomas shook his head. "No. No, I don’t.... In my life, I can tell you not many have been kind to me. She was one of the few."

Anna placed a comforting hand on Thomas' shoulder as he wept.

Mrs. Hughes walked by, and Anna and Thomas both straightened up.

"Oh, don’t mind me," Mrs. Hughes said. "The sweetest spirit under this roof is gone and I’m weeping myself."

Jimmy remained in the background, feeling awkward and out of place. He didn't know Lady Sybil, but he knew this grief all too well. He kept flashing back to when his mother had died, the painful memories and images flooding his brain. Jimmy went back upstairs to his room, closed the door, and lay face down in bed, breathing into his pillow.

His mother had been sick with the flu for a over a week and had taken a turn for the worse. Her fever had risen. Her breathing had become labored. Then suddenly, she'd stopped moving and lain still....

He kept remembering her face at the wake, sunken and white, her body clothed in ivory. Jimmy had touched her; she was cold, her skin wasn't soft, and there was no comforting scent. This wasn't the warm, loving Mummy who'd called him her little prince. It just _wasn't_. He remembered wanting to _run_ from the room....

The loss of his father was terrible, too, but with his mother it was so _visceral_ , like losing a limb. And with her death, he was _truly_ alone.

Jimmy pulled the pillow over his head and tried not to _think_ or _see_ anymore. It was nearly impossible. Finally, he fell into a fitful sleep.

@@@

The next few days were a blur of mourning and funeral arrangements for the entire household. Thomas went about his duties in a fog of grief, and Jimmy so wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know _how_. He wasn't good at that sort of thing and never had been. He could barely deal with his _own_ feelings, much less somebody else's.

One morning at breakfast, Alfred said, "Cheer up, Mr. Barrow. A long face won't solve anything."

"Leave him alone," Anna chided. "He knew Lady Sybil better than any of us."

"Except you," Thomas said quietly. "We were the two who really knew her."

"I'd say your grief speaks well of her," Jimmy said to Thomas, who was sitting next to him. It was the best he could do....

"Thank you for saying that," Thomas said without raising his head. His trembling hand brushed Jimmy's under the table. He was in _such_ pain. Jimmy could _feel_ it coming off him like heat or cold. At the touch, Jimmy instinctively took Thomas' hand, stroking it with his thumb.

Thomas glanced at him, and Jimmy met his eyes and tried to look reassuring. He really _did_ understand that grief. Then Jimmy removed his hand and returned to his meal.

Later that morning, Jimmy was outside having a cigarette. He didn't usually smoke, but with all the sadness in the house stirring up so many disturbing memories, he'd looked for any excuse to get outside for a bit.

He was sitting on a low stone block in the kitchen garden. It was an odd position, putting his knees higher than his hips, almost like squatting, but he was weary and didn't feel like standing. His arms were resting on his knees, and the cigarette dangled from his long fingers.

Thomas saw him from the window and joined him. They both smoked in silence for a few moments. Jimmy stared off vacantly.

"Ya have t'admire Lady Sybil," he said suddenly. "Livin' on her own terms, marryin' the chauffeur n' all."

"She definitely had her own mind," said Thomas.

Jimmy continued. "At least she was livin' the _life_ she wanted with _who_ she wanted. That's likely more than I'll ever have."

Thomas was struck by this statement. "Why is that?"

"Bein' in service," Jimmy said. "It's not what I _really_ want. And I can try to move up, but it's a long slog. Look at Mr. Carson. Old as Methuselah, and he's just a butler. Tha's all he'll ever be."

"What _do_ you want, Jimmy...?"

Jimmy chuckled awkwardly. "Dunno. T'travel the world n' drink champagne, I guess."

"The _who_ certainly shouldn't be of concern to a chap like you...," Thomas said casually. "You have your pick of the pretty girls, I imagine."

Jimmy took a drag off his smoke and shrugged. "I suppose...."

Alfred was approaching them.

"Bloody _hell_...," Jimmy muttered.

"Mr. Carson is looking for you," Alfred said to Jimmy.

Jimmy put out his cigarette and stood up. "On m'way...."

He and Thomas nodded in parting, and Jimmy followed Alfred back inside the house.

Thomas' mind was racing. Jimmy sounded less than enthusiastic about his natural appeal to women. Just _what_ had he meant by not being able to live a life with _who_ he wanted? _Who_ did he want, and _why_ couldn't he have them...?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find Lady Anstruther's first name anywhere, so I've called her Victoria. If any of you know it, let me know, and I'll correct it. And once again, feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for subscribing! I'm humbled and really flattered by your interest. I hope my story lives up to your expectations. :)

It had only a been a month since Sybil's passing, but Lady Grantham had committed to it, and she needed an activity to get her mind off her loss. The entire household needed it, in fact.

So began a whirlwind of preparation for the annual church bazaar, which was to be hosted by the Abbey this year.

Thomas and Jimmy were among the servants setting up for the bazaar. Her Ladyship had drawn a diagram of where the tarps, tables, and booths should go to use as their guide. The day was breezy, which meant anything that could possibly blow away had to be weighted or tied down.

The two men worked together laying out and tying down the table cloths. Jimmy could feel his forelock pulling loose, and it kept falling in his face. The wind had also loosened the pomade's grip on Thomas's hair, and the exercise had put color in his cheeks. Jimmy thought Thomas looked especially handsome in this less-formal state.

 _Even while laboring he moves so gracefully,_ Jimmy thought. The valet reminded him of a proud panther.

The table cloths billowed like sails as they spread them out, and Jimmy imagined he was on the deck of a tall, old ship headed to Tahiti, America or the Caribbean. Someplace _exciting_. Having an _adventure_. He and _Thomas_....

Wait, what was _Thomas_ doing in his fantasy?

He imagined the ship again, and Thomas was _still_ there. Standing by his side. His hair blowing in the sea breeze. His cheeks flushed with color. His arm across Jimmy's shoulders, like after he'd sprained his ankle....

The golden curl fell in his face again, and Jimmy tried to slick it back with his fingers. Thomas grinned, obviously amused by the battle with his hair. When Jimmy met Thomas' gaze, he felt a flush of embarrassment, as if Thomas somehow knew that Jimmy was imagining things about him, about the _two_ of them.

 

On the day of the bazaar, Lady Grantham told the servants to enjoy themselves. Jimmy gladly obeyed, dodging Mr. Carson, as he'd seen the big cheese ordering Alfred about in spite of Her Ladyship's decree.

He'd had his eye on the High Striker game since its set up. The game involved striking a pad with a mallet, trying to propel a puck on a track high enough to ring a bell.

"Yer a bit of a shrimp, aren't you?" the High Striker barker commented, grinning at Jimmy.

Jimmy puffed up. "I'm a shrimp with _muscle_." He took the mallet and struck the pad with all his might. The puck _just_ missed hitting the bell. Jimmy dropped the mallet.

"That isn't fair," he whined. "It's weighted."

The barker just laughed.

Mr. Molesley was standing by with Phyllis Baxter.

"Go on, you have a go, Mr. Molesley," said Phyllis.

"This _really_ isn't _your_ sort of game," Jimmy told Mr. Molesley.

"No, no," Mr. Molesley protested to Phyllis. "I won't manage it if Jimmy can't."

"Try," Phyllis urged. "I want to see it."

Hesitantly, Mr. Molesley picked up the mallet.

Jimmy folded his arms and grinned smugly.

Mr. Molesley swung the mallet, hit the pad, and rang the bell loudly.

"Well done!" Phyllis said.

"That was _cheating!_ " Jimmy exclaimed.

" _How_ could he _cheat_ at High Striker?" came a voice behind Jimmy. He turned to see Thomas with his cigarette, looking amused.

"You try it, Thomas," Jimmy demanded. "Go ahead, try it."

Thomas dropped his smoke and crushed it out in the grass. He picked up the mallet, swung it, and failed to ring the bell.

"See?" he said. "I couldn't ring it, either."

"Ya weren't even _tryin'!_ " yelled Jimmy. "Don't ya _coddle_ me, Thomas!"

Thomas chuckled. "Well, _excuse me_ for trying to be _kind!_ " He picked up the mallet, swung it again, and rang the bell.

Jimmy gaped at Thomas, then huffed and pouted furiously.

"It's all to do with the _swing_ ," Thomas said, his eyes twinkling at Jimmy, "and the swing is in the arms."

Jimmy watched Thomas, whose crystalline eyes regarded him playfully. He felt humiliated. But he also felt something else, that _flutter_ in his stomach....

Jimmy suddenly turned and stormed away.

"Ah, Jimmy, don't be angry," Thomas said. "It's just a silly game...."

Jimmy didn't stop walking.

"I was only teasing you!" Thomas called. "Just having a bit of fun!"

Jimmy began running towards the house. He had to.

Jimmy had an erection.

@@@

When Jimmy was upstairs in his room later on, he stripped off all his clothes and stood in front of the mirror. He studied his body from all angles with a critical eye. He flexed his arms, noting that the muscles did bulge. He turned to the side. His stomach was nice and taut. He looked at his now-limp cock. He'd never had any complaints about its length or thickness. He lifted his arms and sniffed his pits, noting the manly musk they emitted.

Yes, Jimmy Kent was indeed a _real_ man.

Sure, he was _smooth_ with little body hair, but so what? He was _blond_ , so even the body hair he had didn't show up well against his gold skin. He wasn't like Thomas, who was pale as alabaster and likely had dark hair on his chest and legs. Jimmy had seen a bit of it on his arms when he'd been in his sleep attire....

_Stop thinking about Thomas and his body hair! It's not normal. It's not natural._

Jimmy was a _man_ , damn it. A _real, red-blooded_ man.

And he knew exactly what he needed....

He needed to get _laid_.

He asked Carson for a day off and got it, knowing just _where_ he needed to go and _who_ he needed to see....

@@@

Jimmy arrived at the Anstruther estate by late morning. Lady Anstruther was expecting him, and he slipped in through the back as she'd instructed. He knew this house well, and stealthily made his way up the servants' stairs to the second floor, where the family bedrooms were.

Lady Anstruther was reclining on a chaise when he entered her bedroom without knocking. She smiled broadly upon seeing him and rose to her feet. She was wearing a sheer, black dressing gown that clung to her curves, leaving very little to the imagination.

"Have you eaten?" she asked, moving to pour Jimmy a drink. She had their routine down pat.

"No."

"I'll have lunch sent up then" --she smiled-- "in a bit."

Jimmy took off his hat and jacket. "How was France?"

"Lovely, as France always is," Lady Anstruther answered. She handed Jimmy his drink. "Of course, it would've been far lovelier if you'd been there, too."

Jimmy just grinned and sipped his drink.

"How's life at Downton?"

"Good," Jimmy said, nodding.

Her Ladyship studied him. "Are you _happy_ there, Jimmy...?"

"Quite." Jimmy finished his drink and removed his tie.

Her Ladyship walked slowly to the doors of her balcony and looked outside. She toyed with her drink.

Jimmy felt his head beginning to throb.

Her Ladyship turned and stared at him longingly. "I've _missed_ you, Jimmy. Being apart from you for so long, I realize just how _much_ I've come to depend on you."

Jimmy glanced around the room uncomfortably.

Her Ladyship tapped on the drink glass with her fingernails.

Jimmy put his hands behind his back, rocked on his feet, and grinned at her.

_Blimey, Victoria, let's hit the sheets already...._

Her Ladyship approached him, setting her drink down along the way. She gently drew his hands forward and clasped them in hers. "I want you to come back to work for me, Jimmy--" she widened her eyes "-- _please_."

_Time to move things along...._

"I'll think 'bout it," Jimmy murmured, sliding his arms around her. He began kissing her neck, then slipped his hand between the folds of her dressing gown and gently stroked between her legs. Her Ladyship gasped, pushed Jimmy towards the bed, and that was the end of the conversation.

  
After the sex, they had lunch, and Lady Anstruther chattered on about France and French fashions and French manners and French people and a whole lot of high-society who-did-what hooey that Jimmy couldn't have given a rat's arse about. But as usual, he nodded and chuckled and grinned at all the right points.

Finally, he bid Lady Anstruther farewell, claiming falsely that he had to serve dinner that night.

"Think about my offer," she said before planting a final kiss on his lips.

"I will," Jimmy lied, slipping away down the hall. He retraced his steps down the stairs, through the back door, and across the green towards the road. He glanced at his pocket watch as he jogged towards the bus stop. He'd managed to make his escape before afternoon tea. Not bad....

While awaiting the bus, he belched, tasting the seafood salad they'd had for lunch. There'd been that, French bread, white wine, and for dessert, Napoleon custard cake.

He'd been fucked and fed. By an _aristocrat_ , no less. What _more_ could he have asked for? So _why_ wasn't he in a better mood...?

This encounter was indicative of _all_ his romantic relationships: unfulfilling, unsatisfying, superficial conversation culminating in mechanical and meaningless sex. Just another reminder that he'd probably always be alone, for he had no interest in marriage or children. He'd never be able to spend his life with someone special because, even if such a woman came along, he'd never be able to _connect_ with her.

His inability to emotionally connect with women was ironic, considering how much he'd _adored_ his mother....

 _You expect too much,_ he told himself.

After the bus let him off in Downton, he ducked into Grantham Arms for a pint. He finished it off, and then ordered another....

@@@

Jimmy purposely got home late. He didn't want to run into Carson in his present condition, which was definitely and decidedly _drunk_.

Thomas was sitting alone at the table in the servants' hall, smoking and reading the paper, when Jimmy stumbled in.

"Enjoy your day off?" Thomas asked.

"I banged Lady Anstruther," Jimmy replied.

It was critical-- _imperative_ \--that Thomas know he'd slept with a woman. Maybe the valet would respond with a chuckle and raunchy tale of his own, and they could be like real mates, laughing and bragging about their exploits with women.

Instead, Thomas got a strange expression on his face, which Jimmy found unreadable.

 _Maybe he didn't understand me..._ , Jimmy thought.

"I got _laid_ , Thomas," he said slowly.

"So you said," the valet replied quietly.

"By the Lady Anstruther."

Thomas just watched Jimmy. The footman pulled out a chair and sat beside him.

"We used to do it sometimes when I was workin' fer her," Jimmy explained. "She'd flirt with me, ya know? Then she'd call me into her room when she was in her silkies to tell me I did a good job at dinner or some other nonsense. One time I came in, and she was lyin' on her bed starkers. She asked if I'd like t'join her n' I said 'Blimey, why not?'"

Thomas grinned a little and nodded, puffing on his cigarette.

"So I _did_ ," Jimmy continued. "And l fecked her _twice_." Jimmy chuckled and slapped his thigh.

Thomas just continued to nod and puff, wearing that frozen grin.

"She's older n' all," Jimmy mused, "but she's still a decent lay."

Thomas tilted his head back, slowly exhaled smoke, and stared at Jimmy through half-shut eyes.

"What sort of women do _you_ like, Thomas?" Jimmy asked.

Thomas' eyebrows shot up, and he tapped off his ashes. "Oh, well...."

"Come on, now," Jimmy said. "Tall, handsome bloke like you, bet ya 'ave to _fight_ 'em off when yer out n' about, eh?"

"Something like that," Thomas said.

"So, tell us a story then," Jimmy urged. "Yer best bit o' tail. Don't be _shy_."

"It's late, Jimmy," Thomas said, putting out his smoke. "Perhaps some other time."

"Blimey, stop bein' _coy_ ," Jimmy insisted. "I won't tell anyone, Thomas. We're just two pals talkin' 'bout women."

Thomas stood up, and Jimmy grabbed his arm. Thomas stared at his hand, then at him. "I'm not your _pal_ , Jimmy," he said sharply. "I'm your _superior._ "

Their eyes met. Thomas' were guarded again, cold as a winter morn. Jimmy looked at him pleadingly but had no idea _what_ he was pleading _for._ Then Jimmy removed his hand and looked away.

Thomas left the servants' hall.

@@@

The next morning, Jimmy awoke with a terrible hangover and a sense of dread. He knew he'd been out of line with Thomas-- _Mr. Barrow_. Asking him about the women he liked? His best _fuck_...?

_Jesus, Mary, n' Joseph, Kent...._

He pulled the pillow over his head.

Since the pig incident and then Lady Sybil's passing, Jimmy had thought perhaps he and Thomas were becoming friends. They'd talk, smoke, play cards, and joke around. Thomas was a guarded person, obviously not easy to get to know. But Jimmy had _wanted_ to get to know him and _had_ been, little by little, slowly but surely....

All of that had been ruined last night, Jimmy was certain of it.

Suddenly Jimmy had a frightful thought. What if Thomas was so offended, he'd reported their exchange to Mr. Carson? Jimmy would likely get sacked, and then he'd have to go work for Lady Anstruther again, with her neediness and mindless chatter. Jimmy lay there considering this unpleasant possibility until he couldn't take it any longer.

He threw back the covers and got up to face the day and whatever it had in store.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr. Barrow, may I have a word with you?" Jimmy asked as the servants were leaving the breakfast table that morning.

Thomas wore his most professional face. "Certainly, Jimmy."

Jimmy led Thomas into the boot room, where they were--for the moment--alone. He closed the door.

Jimmy cleared his throat and stood before Thomas, looking sheepish. His eyes met the valet's hesitantly, then glanced away, then back again. He took a breath.

"I want to apologize fer m'behavior last night," Jimmy said. "It was unacceptable."

"I agree," Thomas said quietly.

"It'll never happen again, I promise."

"Apology accepted," Thomas said. Again, his face was unreadable.

Jimmy grimaced. "Did ya...report it to Mr. Carson...?"

Jimmy thought Thomas might grin, but he didn't. He just said, "No, Jimmy, I did not, nor do I intend to."

The footman sighed. "Blimey, _thank_ ya fer tha'."

"I suppose it's to be expected," Thomas said resignedly, "little ladies' man that you are."

 _Not really...,_ Jimmy thought, nodding politely.

He left the boot room feeling pleased and relieved that his budding friendship with Thomas was saved and things could continue as usual.

But, alas, things did _not_....

From then on, Thomas was very cool towards Jimmy and actually appeared to be _avoiding_ him....

There were no more shared smoke breaks, jokes or grins. Their only conversations were strictly work related, and--with the exception of mealtime--Thomas would leave the servants' hall (and the courtyard and any other place) whenever Jimmy entered. Jimmy would call to him, but Thomas would always mutter breezily about having to do some task for His Lordship.

Worst of all, Thomas no longer stood by the piano to hear Jimmy play in the evenings. This made the footman especially sad because he communicated far better through music than words, and he'd use it to convey his moods, which Thomas seemed to understand. The piano was lonely without the valet leaning on it.

One night Jimmy played Chopin's Larghetto, the Romance, from concerto 1, a lovely, sentimental piece that his dad had taught him because his mum so loved it. He was hoping to lure Thomas back to the piano.

When he'd finished, there was the sudden sound of clapping. Jimmy glanced around, and he'd drawn nearly all the staff into the servants' hall, except Thomas.

"That was beautiful, Jimmy, what is it?" Anna asked.

"Chopin's Larghetto," Jimmy replied.

"Concerto 1, I believe," Mr. Carson added. "Nicely done, James."

Jimmy nodded, speechless. A compliment from the big cheese wasn't something he heard everyday (in fact this was the _first_ ).

"Mr. Barrow!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed. "Don't stand out in the hall, you can hear the music much better in _here!_ "

Jimmy suppressed a grin and began to play a nocturne by Chopin. At rare times, Alfred could be a genius.

@@@

A few days later, Miss O'Brien joined Jimmy in the servants' hall. "Not used to seeing you having tea alone," she said. "You and Mr. Barrow always seem to so enjoy having it together...."

"Not anymore," he said.

"Did something _happen?_ " Miss O'Brien asked. "You two used to be thick as thieves."

Jimmy sheepishly explained. "I made some rather... _crude_ remarks about a lady I'd, uh, courted. I think I _offended_ him."

O'Brien laughed. "Not likely."

Jimmy looked puzzled. "Why not?"

"Thomas isn't one for the ladies, that's all."

"He isn't?"

O'Brien gave Jimmy a knowing look. "Being a fan of Oscar Wilde and all...."

"I don't know what that means...."

O'Brien grinned at Jimmy's ignorance. "Thomas prefers the _stronger_ sex to the _fairer_ one."

Jimmy felt as though he'd been struck in the face.

O'Brien feigned surprise. "Oh, my. Was that supposed to be a secret?" She stood up and left.

Jimmy sat in stunned silence, lost in a swirling storm of emotions.

Mr. Barrow was a _homosexual_....

Suddenly, every encounter they'd had, every look they'd exchanged, every conversation they'd shared, took on a whole new meaning.

Jimmy's _reactions_ to them took on a whole new meaning, too: the stomach flutter, the blushing, and then at the bazaar....

_The bazaar...._

Jimmy ran out of the servants' hall and into the downstairs bathroom, not _quite_ making it to the toilet before he threw up his entire dinner. He was trembling, and he sat on the bathroom floor and rested his head on the cool lip of the cast-iron tub. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but it was impossible. He was being buffeted by waves of panic and fear at the realization of what all this meant.

"Mr. Carson!" Alfred suddenly yelled from right beside him, causing him to jerk. He hadn't even heard the beanpole enter. "Jimmy's sick!"

"I'm _fine_ , Alfred," Jimmy muttered, not opening his eyes, hoping maybe, _just maybe,_ Alfred would go away.

No such luck.

"Oh, my," came Mr. Molesley's voice as he joined Alfred.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

"James! Have you fallen?" boomed Mr. Carson's voice.

"No, sir," Jimmy replied quietly. "I'm just havin' a rest."

_Go...away...all...of...you...._

"Mr. Molesley, you and Alfred help James upstairs to bed, and I'll get Mrs. Hughes."

_Ah, Christ. Let 'em fuss over me then._

So, Jimmy allowed himself to be helped up to bed by the two men and fussed over by Mrs. Hughes, who said he likely had stomach flu and should spend the next day in bed.

As he lay there alone in the dark with a cool cloth on his forehead and a glass of soda water by his bed, the waves of fear and panic continued to bombard him. However, mixed in with those waves were small _swells_ of another emotion....

_Relief._

@@@

The following week was the annual fair in the nearby town of Thirsk, and Tom Branson planned to go. Several members of the downstairs staff got permission to go, as well, and Tom offered to drive them there.

Thomas, Jimmy, Alfred, Ivy, Daisy, and Mrs. Hughes were going. So was Mrs. Patmore, who was being escorted by the grocer, Joss Tufton.

Jimmy was looking forward to the distraction, for he'd been a wreck since learning about Thomas. He'd been trying to think things through and sort things out, but only seemed to end up _more_ confused.

The truth was he kept coming back to the same conclusion and didn't have the courage to _accept_ it....

The first thing Jimmy did when he got to the fair was look for a concession stand. He was enjoying a pint when he heard his name being called.

"Jimmy!"

Alfred. _Again_....

"Come join us for the tug of war!" Alfred exclaimed. "We're the Downton team!"

Jimmy finished off his pint and joined the rest of the Downton men. Branson and Thomas were already on the rope. Thomas was still avoiding him, and Jimmy was fine with that because, at this point, the sight of the valet nearly _undid_ him.

"Any side bets before we begin?" the judge asked.

"Who'd bet on _them?_ " came a snarky voice from the opposing team

"What odds will you give us?" Jimmy asked.

"Ten to one," replied the judge.

"Right," said Jimmy, handing the judge some money. "A quid on the Downton team."

Some men on the other side laughed at him.

"Any more?" called the judge.

"That's enough money down the drain," Alfred commented.

"Ready?" asked the judge.

"One moment...," Jimmy said. He'd spotted that big grocer beau of Mrs. Patmore's in the crowd, chatting up some birds. "Mr. Tufton, you'll join our team, won't you? As a Downton supplier?"

"If you want us, lad, aye," Mr. Tufton replied, making his way to the rope.

"Had you already seen him?" Alfred asked Jimmy.

Jimmy gave him a look. "What do _you_ think...?"

"Everyone take the strain," called the judge. The men picked up the slack.

"Pull!"

The tug of war was on.

The crowd cheered as the men pulled on the rope. Both sides egged on their teammates.

"Come on, lads! Come on, boys!"

"Come on, Mr. Branson! Mr. Tufton!"

"Pull it! Pull the rope! Come on, boys!"

Finally, the opposing team gave way, and the Downton men pulled them over the line.

The crowd cheered.

"I declare the Downton team the winner!" yelled the judge. He settled Jimmy's bet, handing him a wad of bills.

"Thank you very much," Jimmy said, pocketing it.

The Downton men congratulated each other, shaking hands.

"Well done, Jimmy," said Tom, grinning.

"Thank you, Mr Branson."

Suddenly, Thomas and Jimmy were shaking hands, and Jimmy was staring right into those stormy blues.... His heart leapt into his throat, his stomach fluttered, _and_ he broke out in a sweat. He dropped Thomas' hand as if it _burned_ and quickly stumbled away, eventually managing to get his bearings. He pulled out his wad of cash.

Hell, if he couldn't _find_ himself a good mood, he'd bloody well _buy_ one.

Jimmy returned to the concession stand. "Let's have a drink!" he declared. "One all round, all right? My pleasure, lads, my pleasure." The drinkers all cheered and slapped Jimmy on the back.

After a pint (or two...) Jimmy wandered around and spotted Ivy and Daisy at a booth arguing.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I want a go," said Ivy, "but Daisy thinks it's too expensive."

"Ah, have it on me," Jimmy said, thumbing through his stash. "Here." He handed the money to the booth worker. "One go for each of 'em."

"Are you _drunk?_ " Daisy asked.

_Ungrateful bitch...._

" _Thank_ you, Jimmy," he snarled. "How _kind_ of you."

"It _is_ kind," said Ivy, smiling sweetly. "Thank you very much."

"Don't flash yer money about," Daisy warned.

"It's _my_ money, won fair n' square. I'll do what I want with it." Jimmy spun around and grinned for effect, slamming right into a passerby.

Jimmy was on a _roll_....

He wandered back to the concession stand and helped himself to some drinks that people had left behind.

_No point in wasting perfectly good alcohol...._

He saw Mrs. Patmore looking at him. She was sitting with Mr. Tufton.

Jimmy ambled away and continued to drift aimlessly about the fair.

Suddenly, he whimpered.

 _None_ of this was working. In fact, the festivities around him were only making it _worse_. He was _still_ depressed and confused. He was _tired_ of acting, playing this part, putting on a facade...

And he didn't want to do it anymore.

So, he wandered away from the fair and sat under the arch of a stone bridge, where he could be alone. He folded his arms across his knees, put his head down, and closed his eyes. He had just about dozed off, when he heard the crunching of leaves and twigs. He looked up.

There stood Thomas.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Were you followin' me?" Jimmy finally asked.

"I was...," Thomas replied.

"Why?"

Thomas approached Jimmy and grinned wryly. "Stumbling about drunk and flashing money isn't exactly _clever_. Somebody had to keep an eye out."

"I ain't known fer m'smarts when I drink," Jimmy said, "as you witnessed."

Thomas acknowledged this.

Jimmy rubbed his face with both hands and tried to steady his breathing.

"Ah, Thomas.... _Thomas_...I know."

Thomas looked puzzled. "Know _what_ , Jimmy?"

"About _you_."

Thomas just stared. Jimmy lifted his head from his hands and stared back with bloodshot eyes.

"I _know_ ya prefer _blokes_."

Thomas went ashen.

"Miss O'Brien told me."

Thomas flushed pink, and his chest began heaving. "That _bitch_.... She had _no_ bloody right. Not with what I know about _her_...."

"It's all right, Thomas," Jimmy said. "It's, it's _all right_."

Thomas looked confused.

"Because I _care_...," Jimmy said slowly.

"You _care_.... What are you _saying?_ "

Jimmy took a deep breath. His heart was racing.

"I _care_ fer _you_ , Thomas."

"What do you mean you _care_ for me, Jimmy?" Thomas said angrily. "The way you bragged about your _tryst_ with Lady Anstruther? You _care_ for _men?_ I think _not_."

Jimmy sighed. He was so _lousy_ at expressing his feelings. Especially when he wasn't sure exactly _what_ he was feeling.

"At the bazaar. Ya, ya _bothered_ me, Thomas. I, I had to _release_ it."

"I _bothered_ you...?"

"Ya gave me bloody _wood!_ " Jimmy lamented. "Tha's why I ran! Tha's why I saw Anstruther!"

Thomas' mouth fell open, and his eyes grew large. He was about to reply when suddenly, two men appeared. Jimmy stood up.

"What do you want?" Thomas asked.

" _That_ one," said one of the men, nodding at Jimmy. They moved towards him, but Thomas intercepted and pushed the footman away. The men grabbed Thomas instead.

" _Run_ , Jimmy!"

Jimmy ran, all right...into the woods, where he found a big stick and came charging back to where the two men were beating Thomas. Jimmy whacked the man slugging Thomas across the upper back, and he fell to the ground. Thomas broke free from the other man and punched him in the face.

The man Jimmy had struck was back up, and he grabbed the footman, causing him to drop the stick. He and Jimmy began exchanging blows.

Thomas managed to knock his opponent senseless, and while he was dazed, Thomas took on the bloke who was hitting Jimmy. The valet had just about finished him off, when the other man grabbed Thomas from behind. Jimmy jumped on the man's back, throwing his arm around his neck and squeezing with all his might.

The man staggered about, trying to pry loose Jimmy's chokehold, but the footman was relentless. Finally the man wheeled around, slamming Jimmy's head into the arch of the stone bridge, _hard_. Jimmy went limp, released his grip, and dropped to the ground. The man knelt beside him, fished into his pocket, and retrieved the wad of bills.

Seeing Jimmy, Thomas went berserk, swearing and hitting, and the thieves took off. He hurried to the footman, who had pulled himself up and sat slumped against bridge.

Thomas grabbed Jimmy's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "Jimmy? Jimmy?"

Jimmy's head was humming and everything was spinning about: the trees, the bridge, Thomas....

" _Look_ at me!" Thomas yelled.

Jimmy tried to focus. Thomas' face was swaying to and fro, like a fair ride: two pairs of crystalline eyes, four sharp cheekbones, two pairs of moving lips....

Thomas was talking, but Jimmy couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Can you _hear_ me, Jimmy? Answer me!"

Jimmy didn't know if it was the alcohol, the blow to the head, or whatever. He looked into Thomas' terrified eyes, leaned up, and kissed him on his lovely, red mouth.

Then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short-n-sweet chapter before canon really goes on its head.

"Dr. Clarkson....  Dr. Clarkson!"  

A woman's voice.

A woman's face, blurry.  A nurse.  Jimmy could tell by the white thing on her head.  

Dr. Clarkson peering into his face.

"Jimmy...?"

Jimmy was trying to open his eyes, but the lids felt like sandpaper.

Dr. Clarkson lightly slapped his cheek.  "Come on, lad.  Open your eyes...."

Jimmy groaned.  

 _Leave me be...._

A cold, wet cloth on his face, wiping it, wiping his eyes.

"Open your eyes, Jimmy...."

Jimmy groaned again, annoyed.

_Sod off...._

Cold, icy water on his face.

"Aaaaaaargh," Jimmy whined, like a newborn pup, opening his eyes.  He furrowed his brow, trying to focus.  Then he glanced around.  He was lying in a bed in a hospital ward.

"Do you know your name?" asked the doctor.

"Jimmy Kent....  _So_ thirsty...."

The doctor poured a glass of water and held it while he drank.

Jimmy nodded in thanks.

 "Do you remember what happened to you?" the doctor asked.

"I was at the fair," Jimmy said hoarsely.  "Me n' Thomas were fightin' some thieves.  One slammed me into the bridge.  Thomas tried to help...."

 _And I kissed him_ , he finished silently.  "How long have I been here?"

"You've been out for two days, lad," said the doctor.  "We were all very worried, especially Thomas."

"Is he here?" Jimmy asked.

"Not anymore, but he said he'd be back tonight.  I'm going to call and tell them you're awake."

The doctor then instructed the nurse bring Jimmy soup.

 

Within thirty minutes, Thomas was walking into the ward as though he'd literally dropped what he'd been doing at Downton and rushed to the hospital (which he had).  He looked exhausted and was sporting a few bruises and a cut lip.  His expression was unguarded, tender.  It was the first time Jimmy had ever seen him look like that.

Jimmy was eating soup to which he'd added several crackers, making it gloppy but more hearty.  

Their eyes locked, and Jimmy set aside the soup.  Thomas sat bedside.  The nurse had just stepped out, so they were alone in the ward.

Thomas caressed Jimmy's cheek.  His eyes were full of emotion.  "I was _so_ afraid I was going to lose you."

Jimmy put his hand over Thomas' and kissed his wrist.  Then he took the hand in his own.  "Sometimes I imagine the future.  You know, just daydreamin'.  Used t'be just me, but now, yer there, too.  I'm sailin' on a ship, yer standin' next t'me.  I'm playin' piano, yer just off stage."  Jimmy chuckled, his eyes soft.  "I tried makin' ya go away, but I couldn't. Guess I didn't really _want_ ya to."

Thomas smiled, and Jimmy looked into eyes that were the color of a stormy sky....

Dr. Clarkson walked in, and both Jimmy and Thomas lowered their hands.

"I want this young man to finish eating and then I'm going to do some more tests," the doctor said.

Thomas gave Jimmy back his soup and stood up.  Jimmy toyed with the glop.  "How 'bout some _real_ food, Doctor?" he said, grinning his curly grin.  "Roast beef or a nice chicken?"

Dr. Clarkson looked amused.  "Let's see how you do with that first and go from there."

"You'll come by later, Thomas...?" Jimmy asked, as Thomas moved towards the door.

Thomas paused at the doorway and grinned at Jimmy.  "I'll see you after dinner."  Then, he shot Jimmy a look of love so intense, Jimmy shivered. 

"Are you all right?" Dr. Clarkson asked, seeing Jimmy tremble.

"Just a bit o' chill."

"I'll have nurse bring you another blanket after we finish here."  Dr. Clarkson then proceeded to check Jimmy's eyes.

@@@

Dr. Clarkson released Jimmy from the hospital at the end of the week.  Jimmy eased back into his work schedule, as the doctor didn’t want him to do too much for another week.

Jimmy used the opportunity to dump as much work as he could on Alfred.

He desperately wanted to find time alone with Thomas, but the valet had left on a trip to London with His Lordship for several days.  Wednesday afternoon, they returned, and Jimmy helped Thomas with the luggage.  Thomas gave him a look that said he wanted them to be alone as much as Jimmy did.

After Thomas had undressed His Lordship for bed, he went by the servants’ hall and looked at Jimmy, who was playing with his cards.  Then, Thomas went outside.  Jimmy wasn’t alone in the hall, so he waited a few minutes before following Thomas. 

They valet was smoking in the garden.  Jimmy was going to speak, but Thomas began to walk away.  He turned at the edge of the garden and motioned for Jimmy to follow him.

Wordlessly, Jimmy followed Thomas through the gardens and down the path that led past the cottages where some of the staff lived, such as the Bateses.  It was pitch dark, and Jimmy could see the end of Thomas’ cigarette glowing and bouncing as he walked.

Finally, Thomas ducked into a shed.  Jimmy followed.

Thomas put out his smoke and turned to Jimmy, whose heart was pounding in his throat.  Jimmy could hear Thomas breathing and see the outline of his sharp cheekbones and black hair.  He moved towards the valet, bringing his arms out to slide under his overcoat and around his waist.  Thomas took Jimmy in his arms, pulling him so close, there was literally no space between them. 

Thomas kissed Jimmy’s plush upper lip, then took both lips between his red, silken ones and snaked his smooth tongue between them into Jimmy’s mouth.  The footman made an appreciative sound, parting his lips further so their tongues commingled.

Jimmy was lost in the intoxicating kiss, not just the sensations, but the scent of Thomas’ cologne, pomade, and skin; the feel of his hands pressing Jimmy to him; and the sense of _belonging_ there.   

"Ever been in love?" Thomas murmured, nuzzling Jimmy's neck, drinking in the muted scent of day-old aftershave.  He planted several soft kisses along Jimmy's jaw, causing him to sigh.

"No," Jimmy whispered.  "Not even close.  Thought perhaps I just hadn't met the right girl... but I guess it weren't a _girl_ I was waitin' fer...."

Jimmy drew back to look into Thomas' face.  The valet’s eyes were half shut, and his red mouth slack with arousal.  Jimmy kissed the lips and stroked the shiny, black hair with his fingertips.

"Have you...?" he asked.

"Thought I was twice...,” Thomas replied.  “I am now, _definitely_."

They came together for another deep, sensuous kiss, and for the first time in a very long while, Jimmy felt _happy_.


	8. Chapter 8

For several weeks, Thomas and Jimmy lived for the night, when they could slip away to the shed to kiss and caress in the bliss of each other’s arms.  That was the extent of it, and it was enough for a while….  Until finally it _wasn't_.

They always ended up _hard_ —no surprise—but the shed was small, with little room to maneuver and no place to sit or lie down.  It was too close to the servants’ cottages, as well.  Jimmy usually relieved himself before he went to sleep, and he wasn’t ready to take this step with Thomas yet.  Being in love, especially with a _man_ , was still so _new_ to him.  Thomas sensed this and didn’t bring up the subject, either. 

That changed one night when, in the middle of a particularly ardent kissing session, Jimmy let his hand wander below Thomas’ waist, to rest on the massive bulge in his trousers.  Jimmy’s own cock was straining against the fabric, and there was a wet spot in front.  Thomas’ breath hitched at Jimmy’s touch, and he paused the kiss.  Jimmy lifted his thigh to rub the inside against Thomas' leg.  He planted a fevered kiss on Thomas’ surprised lips, jamming his tongue deep into the valet’s mouth, and began rubbing his thumb against Thomas’ erection through his pants.  Thomas moaned and gasped, obviously _struggling_ to do it quietly.  

“I want _more_ of ya, Thomas,” Jimmy whined in a hoarse whisper.  “I _need_ more of ya…."  Jimmy had never been so aroused, so full of lust and longing. 

Thomas put a trembling hand on Jimmy’s crotch.

“Oh _god_ , Jimmy, I _want_ you _so_ much,” he whispered.  His breathing was ragged.  He undid Jimmy’s trousers and slipped his hand into his underpants, touching the hot, hard flesh there.  Panting, Jimmy tried to lean back and raise his hips to give Thomas better access, but instead got a rake in his arse.  He hissed.

“ _Shiiiiiite!_ ”

“Blast, this _bloody_ shed…,” Thomas whispered.

Jimmy continued to pant and whine in whispers, clearly frustrated.      

“Ssssshhhh, love, it’s all right,” Thomas soothed.  He retrieved Jimmy’s erection and knelt to suck him off, but knocked over several clay pots instead, breaking at least one of them. 

Thomas rose up, and Jimmy quickly shoved his erection back into his pants.  They stood still in terror, listening for any noise outside.

Silence.

The men sighed with relief.  Thomas tried to scope out the shed in the dim light, as it seemed much fuller than usual.  He could vaguely make out some new rakes and shovels, the pots, and several bags of compost.   

After the broken pots, they both decided it was best to call it a night and head back to the house.  They walked separately, but right before they reached the kitchen garden, Jimmy pulled the valet into the bushes and kissed him fervently, like before.

“I gotta _have_ ya, Thomas Barrow,” He whispered passionately.  “On a bed or sofa or rug or anyplace where we can _make love_ properly.  If I don’t soon, I’ll surely go out o’ m’feckin’ mind.”

Thomas met Jimmy’s hungry kisses with his own and held the footman tightly.  “Let me work on it, love,” he said hoarsely.  He and Jimmy shared one more deep kiss, then returned to the house--several minutes apart--heading immediately upstairs to relieve themselves in the privacy of their own bedrooms.  

@@@

Thomas spent the new few days pondering the situation.  They could take a chance and make love in one of their bedrooms, but the beds were so _small_ and noisy, creaking with every toss and turn.  Besides, this would be Jimmy’s first time, not only with Thomas but with a _man_ , and he wanted it to be _good_ , without fear of discovery.    

By week’s end, Thomas pulled Jimmy aside.

“I’ve found us a _place_ ,” he said, grinning smugly.

Jimmy looked _very_ pleased.

Thomas continued.  “One of the tenant farmers is moving out, and the house will be vacant for a week, starting Monday.  We can each take a day or half-day off and meet there.”

@@@

Jimmy had a day off the following Tuesday, and Thomas was able to get a half day.  They met at the farm house after lunch.  Thomas unlocked the door, and they went inside. 

The house was simple, clean, and sparsely furnished.  Thomas led the way upstairs to the master bedroom.  The large bed was stripped of linens, but Thomas managed to find a blanket in one of the cupboards to cover the bare mattress.

Jimmy sat on the mattress while Thomas unpacked the shoulder bag he’d brought:  water, whiskey, several wash rags, a comb, and a jar of petroleum jelly.

Jimmy’s heart was racing, and he was sweating.  In romantic situations, he was used to being the _aggressor_ , in _controlling_ things.  Plus, he’d never had an emotional investment in _any_ of them.  This wasn’t the case now, and he was nervous; excited, but _nervous_. 

“I feel so bloody _stupid_ ,” Jimmy said.  “Here I am _wantin’_ ya so bad, and I’m shakin’ like a silly maid.”

Thomas sat next to Jimmy and handed him the whiskey.  He put his hand on the back of Jimmy’s neck and massaged it to loosen him up.  Jimmy took a swig from the bottle.

“What would you _like_ to do?” Thomas asked gently.

“Can we talk a bit first?”

“Of course.”  Thomas held his hand out for the bottle.  Jimmy handed it to him, and he took a swig.

“Can I ask ya a question, Thomas?”

“Ask away….”

“Ya said once ya had issues with yer dad.  Was _this_ it?”

“One of them,” Thomas said, handing Jimmy the bottle.  He reclined on the bed, grabbing one of the bare pillows and shoving it behind his head.  “There were other things, but being this sort was the main thing.”

“What was yer dad like?”

Thomas looked at Jimmy.  “Stoic, stern, meticulous.  He was never very kind to me.  I always knew I was a disappointment to him.  He’s the one who sent me off into service at Downton when I was a teenager instead of apprenticing under him, even though I had a way with clocks.”

Jimmy surveyed Thomas; clever, handsome, gentle, sensitive Thomas.

“I could _never_ see ya as a disappointment to _anyone_ ,” Jimmy said sincerely.

Thomas smiled warmly.  “Well, that’s nice to hear.  Thank you, Jimmy.” 

“I want to undress ya now, Thomas,” said the footman.  “N' you undress me.  We take turns.”

Thomas sat up.  “Perfect….”

Jimmy’s hands shook as he slowly undid the buttons on Thomas' shirt.  Thomas kissed him tenderly and stroked his cheek, and Jimmy sighed and relaxed.

Then Thomas undid Jimmy's buttons and removed his shirt. 

Jimmy pulled off Thomas’ undershirt, and his pulse quickened when saw the valet's toned chest and arms, and the dark hair against the alabaster skin.  He admired him for a moment, not saying a word.  Thomas watched his face and didn't move.

"Yer so _very_ fine, Thomas," Jimmy finally said in a thick voice.  "I _knew_ ya would be...."

Jimmy lifted his arms, and Thomas slowly pulled off Jimmy's undershirt, revealing a fluff of blond hair under each arm and a toned, gold chest.

Thomas’ eyes were black as they slowly moved over Jimmy's body.  "Ah, Jimmy....  How _lovely_ you are.”

Then Jimmy put his hands on Thomas' waistband.  Thomas rose so Jimmy could slide off his trousers and underwear.  Jimmy inhaled sharply.  Rising from the nest of black pubic hair was a large and rather impressive erection.  

" _Blimey_...."

Thomas grinned at Jimmy's reaction.

Jimmy hesitantly reached towards the hardon, watching for Thomas’ reaction.  Thomas sat back further to give Jimmy better access.  Jimmy wrapped his hand around the prick.

“I want to _kiss_ it,” he declared. 

Thomas was pleasantly surprised by this bold request.  “Well, that’s quite fine,” he said, lying back on the pillow again and spreading his knees.

Jimmy took a deep breath, relaxing at Thomas’ kind and easy manner.  It was obvious the valet loved him to distraction.  The adoration in his eyes warmed him like the sun.

Jimmy slowly positioned himself between Thomas’ legs and gripped the erection again.  Then he brought it down to his lips and kissed the head.

Thomas sighed softly, and Jimmy could see him grin.  Thomas was clean down there.  His hygiene was always excellent, but he had bathed that morning in anticipation of this tryst.

Jimmy licked the shaft of the erection slowly from top to bottom.  It was warm and the skin was soft.  Jimmy liked it, so he did it again.

Thomas moaned, and Jimmy found that thrilling.  Encouraged, he put his mouth over the prick, but Thomas was so large, he could only get about two-thirds of it in.  Still, he moved up and down, sucking and running his tongue along the shaft.  Thomas continued to gasp and moan, and Jimmy felt himself growing hard.

After a minute or two, Jimmy paused.  "Am I doin' all right, Thomas?" he asked with none of his usual bravado.  "I mean, I just want-- _dear god_ , I _so_ want t' _please_ ya."

"It feels bloody _wonderful_ , Jimmy," Thomas said reassuringly.  "Just think of it as one of your treats, like the way you licked that donut."

Jimmy chuckled.  "Ya liked tha', eh?"

Thomas lifted his head from the pillow to make eye contact with Jimmy.  " _V_ _ery_ much...."

So Jimmy began lapping and licking at Thomas’ prick, swirling his tongue around the head and shaft. 

"Try using your hand, too, love.  Like you would on yourself.  Makes it easier."

Thomas managed to toss him the petroleum jelly, and Jimmy scooped a blob into his palm and spread it on the prick.  He then began to stroke and suck together.  Thomas was right.  It _was_ easier, and within a minute, he had a nice rhythm going of stroking and licking.

"Yeeeeees, Jimmy,” Thomas moaned.  “Aaaah, _Christ_ , that's perfect.  Aaaaaah, god, that feels sooooo _bloody_ good.”

Jimmy laughed gleefully and felt his own loins aching.  He was hard as granite.  Hearing Thomas make such sounds was making him horny as hell.

“I’m about to come, Jimmy….”

Jimmy took his mouth off the prick and continued to stroke it by hand.  He watched in fascination as it exploded like a volcano, squirting a stream of cum that rolled down the shaft and onto his hands.

“Aaaaah, _god_ , Jimmy, aaaaaah,” Thomas moaned as his head lolled back on the pillow.  Jimmy could feel Thomas’ climax coursing through him and all the way down his prick.  It made the footman feel very powerful.

Thomas rode out his orgasm with Jimmy still stroking him.  Then Thomas sighed and raised his head slightly to look at Jimmy, who was still eye-to-eye with his prick.  He chuckled.

Jimmy grinned up at him.  “What?  I’ve never seen one up close.  It’s rather beautiful, actually.”

“Indeed…,” Thomas said with a nod.

Jimmy sat up.  He was still in just his trousers, and he quirked his eyebrows and smiled.  “So, it’s time ya have yer way with _me_ , Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas sat up.  He slowly slid off Jimmy's trousers and underwear, and tossed them to the floor.  His eyes were black with desire as they admired Jimmy's nakedness. 

"Ah, Jimmy...," Thomas breathed.  "You are simply _perfect_."

Thomas drew Jimmy into his arms, bringing him down on the bed with him.  He kissed Jimmy’s lips, then moved down to his neck and shoulders.  He kissed his chest, playfully sucking and flicking his nipples with his tongue, then kissed his arm pits.   

Jimmy moaned and sighed, and Thomas moved back up to his lips to kiss him deeply and passionately.  Jimmy wrapped his arms around Thomas and pulled him on top of him as Thomas plunged his tongue deeper into Jimmy’s mouth.

The kissing steadily became more urgent, and the men ran their fingers through each others' hair.  Then Thomas rolled to put Jimmy on top, straddling him.  He moved his hands up and down Jimmy’s body, squeezing his arse as Jimmy pressed against him.

Thomas was ravenous, nearly out of control with his raging lust for Jimmy unleashed at last.  He just couldn't fill his senses with the blond _fast_ enough. 

Thomas said in a low voice ragged with desire.  “I want to stroke you inside while I suck you off and show you how _good_ that can be.  Is that all right…?”

"Uh-huh."  Jimmy nodded and moved onto his back for Thomas.  He was on fire and half _mad_ for release.  His cock was leaking, and his loans ached to the bone.  He watched as the dark head moved between his knees.

Thomas gently urged Jimmy's knees further apart and began kissing the insides of his lean thighs, moaning at the taste of salty skin and the musky scent coming off Jimmy’s groin.  "You smell sooo _gooood_ ," he breathed.  "I could stay here all day...."

"Aaaaah," Jimmy moaned.  "Aye, Thomas...aaaaah...all day."

Thomas chuckled softly and ran his tongue along the creases between Jimmy's thighs and hips.  He lifted his sack and began lapping at the place between Jimmy's balls and arse, feathery licks over and over, flicking his tongue and tickling the tender spot.  Then, he took Jimmy’s balls into his mouth and gently sucked them and fondled them with this tongue.

Jimmy moaned and writhed in pleasure, clenching and unclenching the blanket.

Thomas dipped his fingers into the jelly jar and gently inserted one into Jimmy's arse, stroking Jimmy’s sweet spot.

Jimmy began whimpering and gasping, as never in his entire life had he felt anything so bloody _good_.

Then Thomas took Jimmy’s prick into his mouth in one swoop and slipped another finger into his arse, moving them back and forth, curling them with each stroke.  He sucked Jimmy’s prick, bobbing up and down, swirling his tongue around and over the head.  Quickly, he found a cadence, coordinating his strokes and bobs in rather expert fashion.  Jimmy’s _loud_ reaction filled Thomas not only with joy at pleasing his heart’s desire, but also smug satisfaction.  Not for nothing was Thomas Barrow known as a _master_ cock sucker.

Jimmy began rocking his hips, and Thomas adjusted to accommodate him. 

The footman was completely undone, crying--and he was _indeed_ crying--as he was out of his mind with ecstasy.

“I, I’m _comin’_ , Thomas!” Jimmy choked out, but Thomas kept right on sucking.  Jimmy climaxed, and the whole bed literally _shook_.  He arched his back and white-knuckled the blanket, tilting his head back to wail long and loud.  He trembled and jerked with the waves of orgasm, and Thomas didn’t miss a stroke or lick, working through the reverberations as Jimmy shot a huge load of cum into his welcoming mouth.

Afterwards, Jimmy lay there sweaty, panting and spent.  His forelock was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and there were beads on his upper lip.  He watched Thomas through half-shut eyes and grinned sleepily.  Thomas regarded him with reverence, drinking in the beauty of him in the afternoon glow of the bedroom.

"You asked me once _why_ I stare at you,” he said.  “ _This_ is why.  _Everything_ shows on your beautiful, expressive face, and it’s so very _lovely_ to watch. 

“I _love_ you, Thomas,” Jimmy said with great sincerity.  “I do... _truly_.”

Thomas’ eyes shone.  “I love _you_ , Jimmy.  With all my heart.”

@@@

Thomas was almost _happy_ to play footman during a dinner party later that week because he got to watch Jimmy work.  Jimmy was perfection, moving about serving, the soft light highlighting his cheekbones and the curves of his lips.  After serving he stood off to the side, posture perfect, immaculately pressed and groomed, not a hair out of place.

In his mind, Thomas juxtaposed polished-footman Jimmy with the undone, sweaty, wailing Jimmy sprawled out on the farm-house bed.  The comparison was so erotic, Thomas had to look away and focus on something else, lest he give himself another erection.

He caught Jimmy’s eye several times, and while the footman didn’t outright grin, he _did_ let the corners of his lips curl up ever so slightly…. 

@@@

The morning after the dinner party, Thomas came downstairs from dressing Lord Grantham grim-faced.  He saw Jimmy and looked pained.

“Thomas, what’s _wrong?_ ” Jimmy asked, alarmed.

“His Lordship is going to America tomorrow, and, as his valet, I have to accompany him.”

Jimmy felt his heart drop.

“ _Why_ is he going to _America?_ ”

“Lady Grantham's brother, Harold, is in some kind of mess,” Thomas said.  “His Lordship has to go and be a character witness.”  

“How long will ya be gone?”

Thomas looked distressed.  “I don’t know.  Perhaps a month…or more.”

Jimmy was panic struck.  “ _A month or more?_ ”

Thomas nodded, obviously quite upset by the prospect.

“I don’t _want_ ya to go, Thomas,” Jimmy whined.

“I don’t think I have much choice, love,” Thomas replied.

 

The following morning, Jimmy sat at the table watching Thomas finish his packing. 

“I’m _really_ goin’ t’miss ya, Thomas,” he said quietly.

Thomas paused and sighed.  “Ah, _Jimmy_ ….  I’ll miss you, too.”  He closed the suitcase. 

Jimmy rose and stood before Thomas, determined not to tear up. “I'll say goodbye here 'cause I don't want the others t'see me bein' a soppy ninny.”

Thomas nodded.  “I’ll get Alfred to carry the other bags.  If they ask, I’ll tell them you’re in the bathroom.  Nobody’ll question that.”

The two men embraced and kissed, holding each other as if they’d never let go.  Jimmy was fighting desperately to stay composed, but once he was in Thomas’ arms, a single sob did escape.  Thomas blinked hard, as he had to go out front and could _not_ be tear streaked. 

They finally parted, and the valet smiled through his wet eyes.  “When I get back, I expect to find you happy, healthy, and best mates with Alfred.”

Jimmy snorted and grinned, blinking away his tears.

“I want to leave you with that grin, m’love,” Thomas said in a shaky voice, and he quickly left the room.

Love _did_ hurt, physically, Jimmy realized.  His entire body ached, especially his chest and throat, which had a huge lump in it.  Here he’d _finally_ fallen in love-- _madly_ in love-- only to lose it for at least a month.

No Thomas for who knew how long.  No looks, no touches, no kisses, no love making, no talks, no jokes, _nobody_ standing by the piano, _nothing_ to look forward to at the end of the day.

 _No Thomas_ ….

Jimmy retreated to the bathroom and wondered _how_ he would make it through the following weeks….


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go, canon pretzel time. This may set a record for most canon twists in a single chapter, I don't know. lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for your continued reading and feedback, I really appreciate it! This fandom truly attracts some super-nice people.... :)

Jimmy didn’t sleep well that first night, and he went down to breakfast the next morning tired and depressed.

There was no warm “good morning, Jimmy,” from over the newspaper, no crystalline eyes flashing secret affection at him.  There were no subtle jokes at Alfred’s expense, no knowing grins exchanged.  Only Carson and the rest having their usual boring conversations without the dry interjections and delicious sarcasm of a certain handsome valet….   

As the day continued, Jimmy realized just _how much_ he looked forward to passing Thomas in the halls or chatting during smoke breaks.  Little interactions like these would bolster his mood for the entire day, and without them life was monotonous and dull.

On the third night, Jimmy went to Thomas’ room, determined to feel _close_ to him, somehow.  He sniffed Thomas’ pillow, which smelled like his pomade and faintly of cologne.  He removed the pillow case and folded it, planning to replace his own with it.  He found Thomas’ sleep attire and sniffed that.  The shirt smelled strongly of Thomas, so Jimmy took it, as well.

He stood in the middle of the room, glancing around at the valet’s things, wondering what else he could do to feel close to him.  He got an idea; he'd write Thomas a letter.  He sat at the desk, and took out a pen and paper.

 _Dearest Thomas,_ he began _._

Then he sat for about ten minutes trying to figure out what the hell to write next, as he was never much for letter writing.

After thirty minutes, he’d composed the following:

_Dearest Thomas,_

_Though I be sitting here in your very own room lonesome, I think of you and do feel joy._ _I have pain because I miss you so.  Deep in my heart and body.  I touch myself at night and pretend it is you.  I think of your handsome face.  I smell your shirt and pillow case which I took from your room to sleep with.  I imagine you are with me.  There is no news here.  It is so very dull.  Alfred is still a ninny.  I truly miss you._

_Yours Forever,_

_Jimmy_

He reread his words and was less than impressed.  

_If I could only play him a song…._

Jimmy reread the letter again and frowned.  _I can't mail this_ , he thought.  _It’s terrible_.  _And besides, what if it was intercepted…?_

“James?”  Came a loud voice out in the hall….

Mr. Carson.

Jimmy quickly folded the letter and shoved it in the desk drawer.  He stood up and hurried to the doorway.  “Here I am, sir.”

“What are you doing in Mr. Barrow’s room?”

“Lookin’ fer a book I loaned him,” Jimmy said, “but I think he musta taken it on the trip.”

“Well, it’s time for bed.  Lights out.”

“Yes, sir.”

@@@

The fourth night Thomas was gone, Mr. Carson went downstairs to have a glass of warm milk and double check some entries he’d made in the books.  He heard noise coming from the butler’s pantry and saw the light was on and shining out into the hallway.  It was well past midnight.

He walked to the doorway and peered inside.

There sat Jimmy in his pajamas polishing the silver. 

You could have knocked Carson over with a feather duster.

“What on _Earth_ are you _doing_ , James???” Carson said in utter astonishment.

“Polishing the silver, Mr. Carson,” Jimmy replied, not looking up from his work.

“I can _see_ that,” said Carson, “but _why_ are you doing it _now???_ ”

Jimmy continued to scrub, not looking up.  “Can’t sleep, sir, and I thought rather than tossin’ and turnin’, I’d do somethin’ productive n’ tire m’self out.”

For a rare moment, Carson was actually _speechless_.  Finally, he spoke.  “I’m getting myself a glass of warm milk, James.  Perhaps you would like one, too?  It might help you to sleep.”

Jimmy continued to scrub.  “No thank you, sir.  I’ll be fine.”

Carson watched Jimmy for a few more seconds, then shook his head and continued on to the kitchen.

@@@

Two weeks later, Mr. Carson called Jimmy into his office.  “James, are you feeling all right?  You appear to be losing weight, and you’re not eating much at meal times.”

“It’s just the change of seasons, sir,” said Jimmy.  “I’m not much fer the cooler weather.  Got me a bit down.”

“Well, you have Mrs. Hughes and I concerned, so please, do try to eat more and get to bed earlier.  If there’s something in particular you would find appetizing, let me know, and I’ll ask Mrs. Patmore about preparing it for you.”

“Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”

Even the prospect of special food made just for him didn’t cheer up Jimmy.  He _ached_ with missing Thomas _all_ the time, day and night.   

@@@

Jimmy tried playing gin with Alfred one night.  They played several hands in relative silence.

“That’s the fourth hand in a row you’ve lost,” Alfred commented.

“Can’t help if I’m dealt lousy cards,” Jimmy said.

“Yer mind’s not on the game, Jimmy.  What’s wrong?”

Jimmy puffed up, mildly irritated.  “Nothin’s _wrong_ , Alfred.  Just a might tired’s all.”

“Do ya miss Mr. Barrow?”  

Jimmy about fell over.  He stared at Alfred.  “Whatever makes ya say _tha’?_ ”

Alfred looked thoughtful.  “Ever since he left for America, you’ve seemed sad.  And you n’ him being mates n’ all.  It makes sense.”

“I’m _fine_ , Alfred,” Jimmy lied.  “I don’t miss _anybody_.”

“Sure yer not pinin’ for him?” Alfred said, grinning.

Jimmy was infuriated.  He glared at Alfred, threw down the cards, and stood up, knocking over his chair in the process.

“ _Sod off, Alfred!_ ” he yelled.  Then he huffed off upstairs.

“Jimmy, wait!” Alfred called. “I was only joking!  I’m _sorry!_ ”

@@@

Across the Atlantic in Washington, DC, America, Thomas Barrow was heading back to the hotel to dress His Lordship for dinner.  Lord Grantham had spent each and every day with his brother-in-law, Harold Levinson, either meeting with lawyers or at the Capitol building.  Thomas would dress him in the mornings and then not see him again until right before dinnertime. 

This meant Thomas had his days to himself, and he would walk the streets of Washington, taking in the sights, museums, and parks.  It should’ve been an exciting time, being on his own in the American capitol, but there was a _pall_ hanging over his visit like a London fog.  He missed Jimmy _terribly_ and longed for the footman to be there _sharing_ the adventure with him.

Earlier he’d sat watching construction on the Lincoln Memorial: the noise and mess, the huge cranes being used, the sketch of what the memorial would look like in a few years.  _Jimmy would love this_ , he’d thought.  _He’d love this whole city.  So many wonderful things being built and so much happening._

Thomas’ favorite walk was along the Potomac River, and he took this route on his way back to the hotel.  The weather was warm and humid, and the cool breeze coming off the water was refreshing.

He pictured Jimmy’s face; his saucy, curly grin.  He heard his lovely voice, his laugh, his comments, his _attitude…_.

After dressing His Lordship for dinner, Thomas decided to eat out instead of at the hotel.  He grabbed a cab and went to a part of the city he’d heard had establishments that catered to his sort.  He decided to check this out for himself.

He found a pub, sat at the bar, and ordered a plate of seafood and cider (Prohibition was in effect).  He looked around, and indeed the place was full of men; not a woman in sight.

As he ate, Thomas remembered his and Jimmy’s time at the farm house: the feel of the footman’s lips against his; the taste of the smooth, golden skin under his tongue….

Every night in his lonely hotel room, Thomas would lay awake _aching_ for Jimmy, longing to make love with him again.  He would relieve himself, imagining he was rubbing his prick between Jimmy’s delectably firm, greased-up arsecheeks.  He’d remember how that arse had felt in his hands as Jimmy straddled him, squeezing Thomas with his thighs as their tongues comingled in delicious kisses.  How Jimmy had looked as he lay against the pillow after he’d climaxed, his curls plastered to his brow, the golden light of the afternoon sun flooding the room and making him _glow_ ….

“Can I buy you another drink?” asked a rather attractive gent who’d just taken the seat next to him.

Thomas pulled out some money to pay his bill.  He smiled politely at the man.  “Thank you, but I actually have somewhere I need to be right now.”

The valet caught a cab back to the hotel, returned to his room, and went to bed….

@@@

One afternoon, Jimmy entered the library with cakes for Her Ladyship’s tea.  He was following Molesley, who had just brought in the tea service.  Molesley had dyed his hair or something, and Jimmy was thinking how _ridiculous_ it looked, especially from the rear….

“James,” Lady Grantham said, “please tell Mrs. Hughes that Lady Anstruther will be staying, if she could prepare Princess Amelia.”

There on the sofa sat the lady herself, staring up at Jimmy with a smug grin and eyes that looked as if she wanted to _devour_ him on the spot.

_Bloody hell…._

“Very good, Your Ladyship.”

Jimmy set down the cakes and practically ran from the room.

He was passing through the foyer later, when Lady Anstruther came bouncing downstairs.  She walked straight up to the footman and got right in his face. 

“Jimmy, I ought to _scold_ you.  Why didn’t you get back to me on my job offer?  You’re a very _naughty_ boy.”

“Show Her Ladyship where to find the drawing room, James,” came Mr. Carson’s voice from where he stood in one of the foyer’s many doorways.  Just _how much_ he’d overheard, Jimmy didn’t know.   

“Of course,” the footman said quickly.  He moved to the drawing-room door and opened it.  “Will ya come this way, M’Lady….”

Lady Anstruther entered the room, slyly slipping her hand inside Jimmy’s livery for a quick tickle along the way.

 

While Jimmy was serving at dinner, Lady Anstruther stuck a note into his livery.  He paused on his way back down to the kitchen to read it.  She wanted him to come to her room that night.  Jimmy crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket.  He had no intention of taking her up on _either_  offer.

@@@

That night, Jimmy dreamed of Thomas.  He dreamed that Thomas had slipped into his room and was kissing him tenderly there in the darkness.  It was the most _real_ dream he’d ever had.  He could _feel_ Thomas’ fingers stroking his cheek and hair.  He could _smell_ his cologne.  He could _taste_ the mint on his tongue.

Then he realized it _wasn’t_ a dream…or _was_ it?  Jimmy tried to focus his sleep-blurred eyes.

“Thomas?  Is tha’ _really_ you?”

“ _Yes_ , it’s _me_ ,” came the whispered reply.  “We’d have been home hours ago, but there were problems with the train, and we got stuck on the tracks.”

Jimmy threw his arms around the valet’s neck and began kissing him wildly, running his hands through the shiny, black hair.

“Ah…Jesus _Christ_ …I _missed_ you… _so_ much,” he said between hungry kisses.

“Not as much as I missed _you_ , my darling,” Thomas said, meeting Jimmy’s passion with his own.  He sat on the bed and pulled Jimmy up into his arms.  Immediately, he drew back.  “You’re so _thin_ ,” he whispered, alarmed.  “You haven’t been _sick_ , have you…?”

“No…,” Jimmy said sheepishly.  “I, I _pined_ fer ya.”

Thomas sighed and hugged Jimmy almost violently, and the two of them kissed and caressed frantically for several minutes.

When they paused for a breather, Thomas nuzzled Jimmy’s neck and smiled.  “I found your letter….”

Jimmy groaned.  “ _Blimey_ , it’s bloody _awful_ ….”

“It’s _beautiful_ and I _love_ it,” Thomas whispered happily.  He kissed the footman tenderly.  

Jimmy lay his head on Thomas’ shoulder.  He kissed his neck and caressed his cheek. “Let’s make love,” he murmured.  “We can put the mattress on the floor so the bed won’t creak.”

“Brilliant!”

Thomas locked the door, and he and Jimmy set the mattress on the floor.  Hurriedly, they stripped down and collapsed onto the mattress in a passionate heap.

They kissed and kissed, stroking, touching, mouths moving over nipples and necks, muffled and whispered moans and gasps.

Jimmy was on fire, and his loins were throbbing for release.      

“My Thomas,” he breathed.  “I’m _whole_ again….”  The last part had literally slipped out.  Jimmy hadn’t even thought about it.  He had indeed felt incomplete when Thomas was gone, and now, with him back and in his arms, he was a _complete_ man, once more.

“You’re my _heart_ , Jimmy…,” Thomas said.

“Thomas, I want ya, I _need_ ya… _inside_ ,” Jimmy breathed.  They were both panting with passion.   

“Ah, _god_ , Jimmy…,” Thomas choked out.  “Where’s your petroleum jelly?”

“Nightstand.”

Thomas retrieved the jelly and lay next to Jimmy. He lubed up his fingers, slipped one into Jimmy, and began moving it back and forth, stroking Jimmy’s sweet spot.  Jimmy gasped.  Thomas introduced a second finger and continued stroking.

“I, I want _you_ inside me, Thomas.  _Do_ it.  I _want_ it….”

Thomas slipped in a third finger, and Jimmy moaned and writhed with pleasure.  Thomas rolled Jimmy to face away from him and began gently gnawing on his neck and suckling his ear lobes while he applied lube to his own erection.  Jimmy gasped loudly and tilted his head back.  Thomas took that opportunity to push into Jimmy just a little.  He reached around, grabbed Jimmy’s prick in his greasy hand, and began stroking it.

Jimmy moaned and panted as Thomas slowly began moving within him, once again hitting that special spot.  His hand glided up and down Jimmy’s prick.  

The footman reached back to slide a hand behind Thomas’ head and into the thick, black hair.

"I wanna, I wanna _see_ ya, Thomas,” he whined, breathlessly.

Thomas put his face next to Jimmy’s ear. “I’m right here, love,” he whispered.  “This way’s easiest for your first time.”

“Uh-huh….”  Jimmy arched back into Thomas, and both men gasped at the exquisite sensation of it.

Thomas kissed Jimmy’s neck, running his tongue along the curve of it, and then nibbled and sucked his earlobes again.  Jimmy’s head lolled with pleasure.  Thomas continued to pump and stroke in a slow, steady rhythm, taking his cue from Jimmy’s arousal.

 “Ah, Thomas, feels _so good_ , so good, aaaah.  So _close_ t’ya, Thomas, _so close_.  Ah, _god_ ….”  Jimmy pushed back against Thomas, taking more of him, and the valet groaned at how wonderfully warm and tight Jimmy was.

“Ah, _Christ_ , Jimmy,” Thomas whispered, overcome with love and lust.  Ah, _god_ …aaah, I _adore_ you, Jimmy.  Ah, god…you feel sooo _bloody good_ ….”

Jimmy began breathing faster, and Thomas quickened his pace.  Both men were sweating and panting.  Thomas could feel the heat coming off Jimmy.  The blond started whimpering as he neared climax, pushing back as Thomas pumped and stroked him faster.  

“Ah, ah, _aaaaaaah, Thomaaaas_.” Jimmy came, and it was explosive.  His entire body shuddered, and he overflowed onto Thomas’ hand as the valet continued to stroke and thrust.  Jimmy moaned and quickly pulled the pillow over his face, lest his wails awake the entire floor.  Thomas could hear his muffled howls and feel Jimmy clench against his prick.  That sent Thomas over the edge, and he came, too, shooting and shaking hot into Jimmy, murmuring his name over and over.  He kissed Jimmy’s shoulder frantically between moans and finally came to rest his damp forehead there.

Thomas sighed, and Jimmy removed the pillow from his face.  Thomas pulled out and grabbed a washrag to clean his hand. 

Jimmy flipped onto his back and sighed.  “ _Christ_ , tha' was _amazin'_.  Been dreamin’ bout it fer weeks.”

“That makes _two_ of us, love,” Thomas whispered.  “On my own in America, and I couldn’t even enjoy it because you weren’t there.”

Jimmy turned to Thomas in the darkness.  “Truly?”

Thomas grinned.  “Yes.”

Jimmy chuckled.  “Sure ya didn’t have any handsome Yankee blokes back t’yer room?”

Thomas snorted.  “I went out to eat one night at a pub for our sort, and I came straight back afterwards because I wanted to go to bed and dream about _you_.  I was _pitiful_.”

Jimmy rested his head on Thomas’ chest and stroked the hair on it.  “From now on, I have t’go, too, when yer t’be gone so long.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to His Lordship,” Thomas said, amused, "with your compliments."

@@@

Lady Anstruther reclined on the bed in Princess Amelia wearing her finest peignoir.  She was reading a book, and every so often she’d check the clock on the wall:

10:30…11:00…11:30…midnight….

She finally let herself accept that Jimmy Kent _wasn’t_ coming to her room that night.

She’d been stood up, spurned, rejected, humiliated.  Lady Anstruther went to the mirror and stared at her reflection.  She was a good-looking, middle-aged woman, but all she could see in the glass were the signs of _age_.

And she _hated_ it. 

 _He’s probably got himself some village girl,_ she thought. _No need for me anymore, so simply cast me aside, even when I’m right here for the taking…._

Angry tears filled her eyes.

She put on her dressing gown and left Princess Amelia, quietly closing the door behind her.

@@@

In the middle of the night, Jimmy awoke because he had to pee.  He put on his dressing gown, went to have a piss, returned to his room, and locked the door.  He figured he’d best set the alarm for 5:00 a.m. so that Thomas could get back to his room before everyone was up.  Then he slipped back under the blankets, curled up next to his beloved, and drifted off into a blissful sleep.

His timing was impeccable because, right after he’d locked his door, Lady Anstruther appeared on the third-floor landing and stood at the entrance to the male servants’ quarters….

@@@

“Jimmy!”

Loud pounding on the bedroom door.

“Jimmy!” 

It was Alfred.  The door handle rattled as he tried to open the locked door.

Thomas and Jimmy bolted awake.  There was a commotion out in the hall.  The clock read 3:00 a.m.

“Something’s _happened_ …,” Thomas whispered, quickly grabbing his clothes.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open.  There stood Carson, Molesley, and Alfred.

For a fraction of a second, everyone _froze_.

The men at the door all had looks of complete and utter shock on their faces at the sight before them.  

The light from the hallway illuminated the two lovers and the mattress on the floor. 

Thomas was standing, bent over, pulling on his pants.  He had just gotten them over his knees.  Otherwise, he was completely naked.

Jimmy was naked on all fours, holding his underpants in his teeth and reaching for his other clothes, which were on the floor next to the mattress.

Their expressions mirrored those of the three men gawking at them.

Mr. Carson gasped and sputtered and finally bellowed out, “There's a _fire_ on the second floor!  Get _out_ of the house!”  Then he and Molesley hurried to pound on more doors.

Alfred continued to ogle Thomas and Jimmy as they rushed to dress.  His mouth was still agape.

“ _Alfred!_ ” Mr. Carson yelled, and Alfred ran to follow him.

@@@

Outside, Thomas and Jimmy stood off to the side by themselves, each wrapped in a blanket, watching as the firemen moved in and out of the house with equipment and people.  Smoke poured out of a second-floor window.

Lady Anstruther was across the green from them.  She and Jimmy looked at each other.  Neither of them smiled.

“What's goin’ t'happen to us?” Jimmy asked, trembling (and not just from cold).

“Nothing good…,” Thomas said, as one of the firemen emerged from the house carrying a coughing Lady Edith.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hope you enjoy this major canon twist.
> 
> I split this chapter into two because it was originally so huge. Thus, the chapter count for the fic is now 12 instead of 11.
> 
> Thanks for the great feedback, kudos, subscriptions, etc. I truly appreciate your interest in this story!

“I don't need to tell either of you that this is a criminal offense,” Mr. Carson said to Thomas and Jimmy as they stood in his office the following morning.

The damage from the fire had been limited to Lady Edith’s room and the one below it, so everyone had been allowed back into the house after the fire was extinguished and the smoke had cleared.

After the fire was out, Thomas and Jimmy had seen Carson speaking with Lord Grantham, and His Lordship glancing their way.  Alfred and Mr. Molesley had also shot them solemn looks.  The night had ended with ominous words from Mr. Carson as the lovers headed back upstairs, “I’ll deal with _you two_ in the morning….” 

Of course, neither of them had slept, and they both looked and felt exhausted as they stood before Carson’s desk after breakfast. 

“Couldn’t ya just ferget ya saw us, Mr. Carson?” Jimmy asked.  “N’ tell Mr. Moseley and Alfred to do the same?” 

Carson gave the footman an incredulous look.  “I can't _ignore_ this, James.”

“Why not?” Thomas asked dryly.

“Don’t you get clever with me, Thomas, when you _both_ should be _horsewhipped.”_

Thomas and Jimmy were quiet.

Carson continued.  “It’s bad enough to _have_ such revolting, unnatural predilections, but to think that you’d actually _act_ upon them under this _very roof_ makes me not only question your judgment, but your very _sanity_.”

There was a long pause, and then Jimmy spoke.  “Mr. Carson, me n’ Thomas _care_ fer each other.  There’s nothin’ _revoltin’_ ‘bout tha’.”  Jimmy glanced at Thomas and gingerly touched his gloved hand.  Thomas’ eyes met his, and he took the footman’s hand.

Carson wasn’t unmoved by this simple gesture, and his tone softened. 

“As utterly offensive as I find your situation, whether or not you believe me, I am not entirely unsympathetic.  You have been twisted by nature into something foul.  I think it better that you both resign quietly, citing staff reductions.  I will write you perfectly acceptable references, and you’ll find that there’s nothing about it that’s hard to explain.  In addition, you’ll each receive a month’s wages.  You are to be out by the end of the week, so you should both start looking for other positions _immediately_.”

Carson rose from his chair and moved towards the door.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll ring the gong.”

“We're not _foul_ , Mr. Carson,” Thomas said quietly.  “We’re not the same as you, but we’re _not_ foul.”

“Yes, well, we’ve spoken enough on this subject.”  Carson opened the door, and there stood Sarah O’Brien.

“Come along, Miss O’Brien, time to stop eavesdropping and do some work,” Carson said, breezing past the embarrassed ladies’ maid.

“I don’t what you--” O’Brien began.

But Carson was already gone.

@@@

While packing, Jimmy went to Thomas’ room to see about sharing his trunk.  He found the valet sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.  Jimmy sat next to him and rubbed his back.

“Y’all right, love?”

Thomas lifted his head.  His face was lined with worry.  “I’ve been at Downton for ten years, nearly a third of my life.  I’ve put down roots and been happy here.  It’s all I know….”

“Yer stronger than ya think, Thomas,” Jimmy said.  “I’ve _seen_ it.”  He caressed Thomas’ cheek.  “And now ya have me, so yer not alone.”

Thomas grinned sadly.  “So we’ll be _two_ out on the streets instead of _one_.”

Jimmy touched his head to Thomas’.  “We’ll be _dandy_ , love.  You’ll see.”

@@@

By the end of the week, Thomas and Jimmy had positions at the estate of Sir Mark Stiles and his wife, Lady Stiles, as butler and first (and only) footman, respectively.

It was a small estate in York, and the only other servants were a Mrs. Jenkins and a maid named Elsie.  Mr. Jenkins lived in the house and Elsie just worked there during the day.

The Stileses’ son, David, interviewed Thomas and Jimmy.  He was a balding, scruffy, middle-aged little man with a weary air about him.  He told them he was a professor and archeologist who lived with his teen-aged daughter in London.  His wife had died five years earlier.  He was an only child and had been trying to manage the household of his aging parents long-distance, but it’d gotten to a point where _men_ were needed on the estate.  He emphasized that the position titles were just that, titles _only_ , and that there would be other work required, such as occasional driving and light gardening. 

Jimmy made a point saying that he and Thomas were best mates and worked well as a team, which went over well with David.  Thomas and Jimmy were available immediately, which was also a plus, as time was of the essence.

 

The two men arrived at the Stiles’ estate the following Sunday after lunch.  Mrs. Jenkins greeted them.  She was a pleasant woman around Mrs. Hughes’ age who did the cooking and supervised the maid.  

“Sir Mark and Lady Stiles are out with Mr. David and Miss Laila,” she explained, “so you won’t meet them till dinner.”  Mrs. Jenkins led the way to the male servants’ quarters.  “You’ll find livery in the first bedroom on the left.  It will just be Sir Mark and Lady Stiles for dinner tonight.  Their son and granddaughter are heading back to London this afternoon.”

Thomas looked around.  “Which rooms are ours?”

“As you two are the only men on the staff, have your pick,” said Mrs. Jenkins.  “I assume you can show yourselves the house and grounds.  I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Mrs. Jenkins left, shutting the door to the quarters behind her.

“We can get up to some fun back here…,” Jimmy mused, looking into the bedrooms.

“Let’s unpack and ensure the livery’s wearable for tonight,” said Thomas.  “Then we’ll tour the place and see where everything is.”

“Givin’ orders already, are ya?” Jimmy said teasingly.

Thomas mussed Jimmy’s hair and took his own bags into one of the bedrooms. “Somebody has to keep you in line, _James_.”

Jimmy chuckled and began unpacking the trunk, putting his things in the room next to Thomas’.

 

After they’d settled in, the men toured the house, and Thomas made notes in a leather-bound notebook.  It was a far smaller estate than Downton, so the tour didn’t take long.

Except for the manicured front yard and drive, the grounds were neglected and overgrown.  The few structures were dilapidated, and the trees and shrubs needed pruning.

“Looks like it was quite grand at one time,” Thomas commented as he and Jimmy walked.

“Maybe they can’t afford the staff to maintain it no more,” Jimmy said.

“Likely…,” said Thomas, “if they have the same person cooking _and_ supervising the maid.” 

@@@

Thomas was in the dining room that night to greet Sir Mark and Lady Stiles.  He introduced himself, and when Jimmy came in to serve the meat, he introduced him, too.

The Stileses seemed pleasant enough as they ate their dinner peacefully and discussed the day.  

“I don't believe I'll have any cheese,” said Sir Mark after Jimmy had cleared away the dinner dishes.  “What about you, my dear?”

“I’d like cheese,” said Lady Stiles. 

“Very good, M’Lady.”  Jimmy prepared Lady Stiles a plate and set it before her.  She began to eat. 

Sir Mark craned his neck to examine her cheese plate. “That one you’re eating looks good, what is it?” 

Lady Stiles took another nibble.  “I believe it’s a _gouda_.” 

“May I have a taste?”  

Lady Stiles paused mid bite.  “Would you _like_ cheese, Mark?  Kent here can make you a plate.” 

“No, I just want to _taste_ your gouda.” 

Lady Stiles looked at Jimmy.  “Mr. Kent, please serve Sir Mark a plate of cheese.”

Jimmy moved to the sideboard and did as he was bid.

“I don’t _want_ a _plate_ , Eleanor,” said Sir Mark, getting testy, “I just want a _bite_.” 

“Kent is preparing you a plate, Mark.” 

Sir Mark’s mouth worked silently.  He appeared to be gearing up to say something.  Suddenly, he pounded the table with his fist.  The china jumped, but Lady Stiles didn’t even look up. 

“ _I just want one bloody bite of cheese!_ ” Sir Mark yelled.

“Mr. Kent,” Lady Stiles said dryly, staring at Sir Mark with wide eyes, “please serve Sir Mark a plate with _one bloody bite_ of gouda.”

Jimmy sliced off a bite-size sliver of cheese and served it to Sir Mark.  The old man ate the cheese and considered it for a good minute.  “Perhaps I _will_ have a plate…,” he said calmly, as if nothing had happened.

Lady Stiles tittered.  Nibbling her cheese delicately, like a mouse, she glanced at Jimmy in amusement, and a sly grin spread across her face.

Jimmy glanced at Thomas, who cocked an eyebrow.

@@@

“They’re spirited, like the Dowager,” Thomas said later that night as he and Jimmy were undressing in the butler’s bedroom.  “At least it won’t be boring.”

Suddenly, Jimmy pushed Thomas down onto the bed, straddled him, and pinned his arms down.

“I’m going to take _you_ tonight, Mr. Barrow the Butler,” he said.  “I want to bugger the _big_ _cheese_.”

Thomas’ pupils dilated with excitement, but his tone was cool.  “Do I detect some _authority_ issues, _James?_ ”

Jimmy leaned over until he was nose-to-nose with Thomas.  “ _Aye,_ ” he whispered, quirking his eyebrows.  Then he kissed Thomas ardently, jamming his tongue into the butler’s mouth and suckling his lovely, red lips.  Thomas clenched and unclenched his fists, and felt himself growing hard.

Jimmy removed what was left of his and Thomas’ clothes, grabbed the petroleum jelly, and began gently stroking Thomas’ sweet spot with his fingers, first one, then two, then three, kissing him deeply all the while.  Thomas became excited very quickly, his cheeks reddening and his breath coming in gasps.

“Do it, Jimmy,” he murmured.  “Do it _now_ and _hard_.”

Nobody had to twist Jimmy’s arm.  He was erect and ready.  Standing next to the bed, he slung Thomas’ long legs over his shoulders, greased up his prick, and slowly pushed into him, moaning at how _good_ it felt.  Thomas closed his eyes and groaned, a full-on blush rolling over his chest and face.  The sight of the elegant butler becoming undone made Jimmy ache with desire, and he began slowly rolling his hips, moving back and forth within Thomas.

Jimmy was hitting _that spot_ , and Thomas thought he’d go mad with the pleasure of it.  The butler scooped out some jelly and took his own prick in hand.  He began stroking as Jimmy pumped.

“Harder, Jimmy.  _Harder!_ ”

The sight of the footman’s golden arms flexing, his boyish face twisted in concentration and lust, and his damp curls flopping in his face made Thomas’ heart race.

“Ah, _Jaay_ -sus, Thomas…,” Jimmy breathed as he gripped the butler's hips and watched him stroke himself.  “Ah, Key- _riste!_ ”

Thomas began panting, and Jimmy quickened his thrusts in response.  There was just the sound of slapping and grunting as the two men grew more excited.  Sweat was rolling down Jimmy’s face, and his chest glowed with moisture.  Thomas’ eyes were slits as he stroked, his red mouth slack, and his brow furrowed with concentration.

Thomas came first, overflowing onto his hand and creating a small puddle on his stomach.  “Aaaaah, Jimmy, ah _Jimmy_ , aaaaaaah, _god almighty_ , _Jimmy_ ….”

Jimmy gasped at this sight--the most erotic he’d ever seen--and climaxed within Thomas, shuddering and shaking.  “Jesus, Mary, and _Joseph_ , _Thomaaaas_ ,” he said in a quivering voice.  Then he moaned loudly, and the Thomas could feel Jimmy’s cock convulsing within him as he rode out his own orgasm.

Afterwards, Thomas moved back on the bed, and Jimmy dropped face down next to him, sweaty and spent.

“I blame _you_ fer this, Thomas,” Jimmy muttered.  “Turned me into a _beast_ , ya did.”

Thomas chuckled and mopped up his stomach with a wash rag.  “I just brought out what was already _there_ , love.”

@@@

Later that week, Jimmy decided to get started on the outdoor clean-up.  He dressed appropriately, including leather gloves and work boots, and began collecting the branches and other debris littering the estate, dumping it all into a central pile for burning.  He went to the shed to get a rake for the smaller branches, but found it locked.  He figured either Thomas or Mrs. Jenkins had the key, so he went into the house to find one of them.

He walked through a room that he’d missed during his initial tour of the house with Thomas.  It was a sitting room or parlor, and in the far corner was a beautiful, polished grand piano.  Jimmy stopped for a moment to admire it.  Then he went to the keyboard, pulled off his right glove, and played a few of the keys.  The sound echoed throughout the room; the acoustics were perfect.

“Do you play, Mr. Kent?”

Startled, Jimmy turned to see Lady Stiles sitting in an armchair by the fire.  Her head didn’t reach the top of the chair back, which is why Jimmy had missed her.

“Yes, M’Lady.”

“He’s brilliant, Your Ladyship,” Thomas said, entering the room with tea, which he served to Lady Stiles.

“Would you like to play something?” Lady Stiles asked.

“I would indeed, M’Lady.”

“Then please do.”

Jimmy quirked his eyebrows.  “Now?”

“Yes, right now,” said Lady Stiles.  “Please play something.”

Jimmy removed his other glove and sat at the keyboard.  He thought for a moment, then began playing a waltz.

Lady Stiles grew very excited, and her face lit up.  She clasped her hands.  “Oh, my… _oh, my_ , that’s _lovely_.  You play _beautifully_ , Mr. Kent!  What piece is that?”

“Sleeping Beauty Waltz, M’Lady,” Jimmy said.

“Of course!” said Lady Stiles.  “The Russian! Tchaikovsky!”

Lady Stiles swayed to the music as Jimmy played.  She rose to her feet and began dancing about the room.  She was quite nimble, but not particularly _steady_ , and Thomas found himself bolting forward several times when she lost her balance, though she regained it on her own each time.

“May I have this dance, Your Ladyship?” Thomas finally asked Lady Stiles.

“I’d be delighted,” Lady Stiles said, looking extremely pleased.  She moved into Thomas’ arms, and off they went, waltzing about the room beautifully.

Mrs. Jenkins appeared in the doorway to watch, and soon, she was joined by Sir Mark.  Both were obviously enjoying the music and dancing.

When Jimmy finished playing they all applauded.

Lady Stiles was glowing.  “Oh, Mr. Kent and Mr. Barrow, that was simply divine!  Mr. Kent, you may play our piano _anytime_ you wish.  In fact, I _insist_ that you do!  Play the Russian or anything else you like.”

“ _Thank you_ , Your Ladyship,” Jimmy said, grinning his curly grin.

@@@

Thomas and Jimmy were having tea and playing cards that night, when they heard the door to the servants’ quarters open.  They were sitting at a table they’d moved into one of the unused bedrooms.

They heard slow, shuffling steps in the hallway.

“Hello?” called Thomas.

Sir Mark appeared in the doorway to the bedroom in his dressing gown.  An unlit cigar dangled from his mouth.

Thomas and Jimmy clambered to their feet.

“What are you chaps playing?” Sir Mark asked.

Thomas and Jimmy were so surprised that neither of them spoke for several seconds.

“Uh, poker, Your Lordship,” Thomas finally said.

“Can I join you?”

“Please,” said Thomas, offering Sir Mark a chair.

Sir Mark sat, and so did the other men.

Thomas dealt Sir Mark in.

“Jacks or better?” Sir Mark asked.

“Yes,” said Jimmy.  

“Where are you lads from?”

“Manchester,” said Thomas.

“Got a sweetheart there?”  Sir Mark grinned.  “I’ve got one.”

Thomas and Jimmy glanced at each other.

“We’re on patrol in the morning, lads,” Sir Mark continued.  “We’ll find those swarthy savages who murdered poor Sir Louis, may he rest in peace.”

Sir Mark pulled out a flask and passed it around.  It was alcohol of some kind, and the other men poured a small amount into their tea cups. 

Sir Mark raised his flask in the air.  “To Sir Louis!” he toasted. 

Thomas and Jimmy held up their cups.  “To Sir Louis.”

The three men drank the alcohol, which was bourbon and quite excellent, Thomas noted.

Without playing his hand, Sir Mark stood up and left the servants’ quarters.  Thomas followed him.  Sir Mark went back upstairs, into his bedroom, and shut the door.

Thomas returned to the servants’ quarters.

“What the bloody hell was _tha’?_ ” asked Jimmy.  “Sleepwalkin’?”

Thomas’ eyes were narrowed.  “I believe he’s _barmy_ , Jimmy.  Happens sometimes in people his age.  Thinks he’s back in the military.”

“Do you think his son knows?”

“Don’t know,” said Thomas.  “I’ll ask Mrs. Jenkins.”

“Ya think he’ll come down here again?”

“Perhaps.”  Thomas grinned.  “I actually wouldn’t mind if he brings more of that bourbon.”

Jimmy chuckled.  “I second tha’.”

“But it’s probably best we lock our bedroom doors at night, whether we’re together or not.”

@@@

The following night, Thomas and Jimmy were asleep in Thomas’ bed, when they were awakened by a piercing scream.

“What the--” Jimmy was interrupted by another scream. 

“It’s outside,” Thomas said, jumping out of bed.  He and Jimmy threw on some clothes and hurried into their overcoats and shoes.  They ran from the servants’ quarters, nearly colliding with Mrs. Jenkins.

“Mr. Barrow!” the terrified woman cried.  “I was just coming for you, it’s Sir Mark!  He’s having another one of his spells, and it’s a _bad_ one!”

Thomas and Jimmy followed Mrs. Jenkins out in front of the house.

By moonlight, they could see Sir Mark running across the green wearing a 19th-century British Army officer’s jacket and pith helmet.  He was waving around a very old rifle and yelling at the top of his lungs. 

“Bloody, brown bastards!  Traitorous pigs!  Avenge the residency!  Major Cavagnari!” 

Lady Stiles was standing in the drive, holding a lantern and screaming.  “ _Mark!  Mark!_ ”

Sir Mark appeared not to hear her and continued to run in circles around the green, yelling.

“Where does he think he is?” Thomas asked.

“Afghanistan,” said Mrs. Jenkins.  “He has flashbacks to the war there.”  She looked at Thomas.  “Sir Louis, you know.  Sir Mark _knew_ him.”

“Louis Cavagnari?” Thomas asked, surprised.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Jenkins.  “They were friends, and Sir Mark--he was Captain Stiles back then--was one of those who went in… _afterwards_.”

“After the massacre,” Thomas said.

Mrs. Jenkins nodded.  “He started having these spells about six months ago, and they’ve only been growing worse.”

“Does his son know?”

“Aye, but I don’t think he realizes how _bad_ it’s getting.  This is the worst one yet.”   

“What’s it all about?” Jimmy asked. 

“The siege of the British residency in Kabul,” said Thomas.  “I’ll tell you more about it later….”

Thomas headed across the drive towards the green.

“Careful, Thomas!” said Jimmy.

The butler made his way to Lady Stiles.

“May I borrow the lantern, M’Lady?” he asked. “Do you know if that gun is loaded?”

“It’s not loaded,” said Lady Stiles, handing Thomas the lantern.  “It’s only for display.”

Just then, Sir Mark shrieked, “Swarthy murderers!” and there was a loud _boom_ as the rifle fired, knocking the head off the statue of Venus in the fountain.

“Captain Stiles!” Thomas yelled.

Sir Mark wheeled around and stared at Thomas, who was holding up the lantern to illuminate his face.

Thomas stood at attention and saluted.  “Lance Sergeant Barrow, sir!”

Sir Mark lowered his gun, and Thomas cautiously moved closer.

“Barrow, Barrow….”  Sir Mark trailed off. 

Thomas continued.  “I’m to escort you back to the residency and clean your weapon, sir.  The Afghans are in retreat, and we're to wait till dawn.”

“Why are you out of uniform, Barrow?”

“My mission is _secret_ , sir.”

Sir Mark allowed Thomas to take the gun.

“Good man, Barrow,” Sir Mark muttered.  “Good man….”

“Please follow me, sir.”

Sir Mark nodded and walked with Thomas back towards the house.  Lady Stiles flashed the butler a grateful look and sighed.

They all went back into the house, and Thomas handed the gun to Jimmy.  “We’ll take _that_ back to our quarters.  Help me get Sir Mark up to bed.”

Jimmy set the rifle by the door, and then he and Thomas got on either side of Sir Mark and carried him upstairs.  The old man had become docile, almost catatonic.  His eyes were unfocused and rheumy.

“He’ll sleep the rest of the night and well into the morning,” said Mrs. Jenkins as Thomas and Jimmy put Sir Mark to bed.  “These spells always exhaust him.”

“Does he remember them?” Jimmy asked.

Mrs. Jenkins shook her head.  “Never.  He doesn’t believe it when we tell him he’s had them, either.”

“You or Lady Stiles should call Mr. David and the doctor in the morning,” said Thomas.

“Thank you again, Mr. Barrow and Mr. Kent,” said Lady Stiles, who was stroking Sir Mark’s hair.

“Your welcome, M’Lady,” said Thomas.  Then he and Jimmy returned to Thomas’ room.  Thomas locked the door and set the rifle on top of the armoire.

“So tell me about the siege,” Jimmy said, shedding his clothes and climbing back into bed.

“Siege of the British Residency in Kabul,” Thomas began.  “Around 1880, I think.  Major Louis Cavagnari and his detail were murdered by Afghan mutineers inside the residency.  Apparently, Sir Louis wasn’t very popular with the Afghans….” 

Jimmy snorted.  “An understatement.”

“Indeed,” said Thomas.  “It lasted for hours, and most of the detail were murdered.  Started the second phase of the Anglo-Afghan war.  The unit that came in afterwards defeated the Afghans.”

Thomas climbed into bed with Jimmy and turned off the light.

“Don't be wandering around outside the servants’ quarters at night, Jimmy,” he said.  “No telling what else that old man has squirreled away.”

Jimmy lay on his side and looked at Thomas.  “Will ya finally tell me how ya injured yer hand durin’ the war?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas stared up at the ceiling for a minute, then looked at Jimmy.  “All right,” he said, sighing.  “I’ll tell you.”

So Thomas proceeded to tell Jimmy the story of his blighty, how he’d purposely held a lighter up out of the trench until a German spotted it and shot a hole clean through his hand.  The butler was near tears when he finished speaking and waited for Jimmy to comment.

“ _Why_ didn’t ya tell me this _before_ , Thomas?”

“Because your dad _died_ in the war, Jimmy, and I was afraid you’d think me a terrible coward and _hate_ me for what I did….”  

“I could _never_ hate ya, Thomas,” Jimmy said, “and I don't want to judge ya, I want to _love_ ya.  How would yer dyin’ have helped m’dad?  Then I wouldn't have _you_ , either, can't imagine tha’.”

Thomas sobbed, and Jimmy caressed his cheek and kissed him tenderly.  Then the footman turned away and pushed his rump up against Thomas so they could spoon.  The butler put his arm around Jimmy and pulled him close.  They fell asleep that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Siege of the British Residency in Kabul was a real event, you can google it and read more, if you like. It becomes even more relevant in the next chapter....


	11. Chapter 11

The following week, David Stiles and his daughter, Laila, came up from London.  David was going to accompany Sir Mark to see a specialist in York for his spells.

Laila Stiles was, at nineteen, a shapely, exotic beauty with long-lashed dark eyes, chestnut curls, full lips, and ivory skin.

“He fathered _her?_ ” Jimmy muttered to Thomas as Sir Mark and Lady Stiles escorted their relatives into the drawing room.

“She must take after her mother,” Thomas said.

As the two men moved about serving tea, Laila’s eyes followed them, and when Thomas glanced her way, she smiled.  He quickly averted his eyes and continued to work.

“New staff, Gran?” Laila asked.

“Yes,” said Lady Stiles.  “That’s Mr. Barrow, our new butler, and Mr. Kent, our footman.  We’ve been _most_ pleased with their work.” 

“They do appear _most_ pleasing,” Laila commented, eyeing Thomas.

“I _know_ tha' look,” Jimmy muttered to the butler after they’d left the room. “It's the way Lady Anstruther looked at _me_.”

@@@

The dinner conversation that night centered on medicine and mummies.

“Are you _sure_ I wasn’t perhaps experiencing a bad dream?” Sir Mark asked.  “I just find it exceedingly _difficult_ to believe these wild stories you tell me are _completely_ true, because I simply do not recall _any_ of it.”

“Yes, Mark,” Lady Stiles said patiently, as Sir Mark had asked this same question _twice_ already in the past week.  “Ask Barrow and Kent.  They witnessed it, too.”

Thomas and Jimmy glanced at each other, not used to being included in their employers’ dinner conversations.

Sir Mark and the others looked at the two men expectantly.

Thomas addressed Sir Mark.  “M’Lord, you came down to play cards with Jimmy and me one night, and you spoke of Sir Louis.”

Sir Mark looked uncomfortable, and Thomas immediately regretted mentioning Sir Louis.

“Then you dressed in your uniform and ran around the green yelling about Afghans,” said Lady Stiles.  “You shot the head off poor Venus with that old rifle.  Thanks to Barrow, we finally got you back to bed.”

“If we had a doctor in the family, we could have gotten a specialist in London,” said Sir Mark.  “That’s where the best ones are.”

“Well, we don’t, Papa,” said David quietly.  “So the one in York will have to do.  He’s a good one, too.  Excellent, in fact.  Specializes in problems of the elderly.  He came highly recommended.”

“You could have been, you know,” said Sir Mark.

David didn’t respond and continued to eat.

“You completed the pre-med coursework,” said Sir Mark.

David still ignored him.

“Mark, please…,” Lady Stiles said tightly.  Sir Mark looked at her, and she shook her head.

Sir Mark sighed.  “I’m sorry, Eleanor, but I still have _trouble_ understanding just why _anyone_ would prefer working with the _dead_ instead of the _living_.”

“Doctors work with the dead, too, Grandfather,” Laila interjected.  “That’s what they use in medical school.” 

“That’s medical school, my dear,” said Sir Mark.  “Once they are out, they work with the _living_ to heal, cure disease, and save lives.  Your father _could_ have made that choice, but instead chose to use his considerable education to dig for pottery, hovels, and dried out old corpses wrapped in gauze.” 

David dropped his fork on his plate. 

“Speaking of which,” Lady Stiles said loudly, “how are the digs going, David?  Any word from that friend of yours in Egypt…?”

“Howard Carter,” David said.  “He’s still working on that excavation in Valley of the Kings.”

“Hasn’t he found anything _yet?_ ” asked Sir Mark.

“Not yet,” said David.  “Remember, he was interrupted by the _war_.”

Sir Mark snorted.  “I’ve heard through our circles that Carnarvon is getting impatient with the lack of results.”

David didn’t look up but was obviously irritated by his father’s baiting.  “Carter has a record of successful digs, Papa.  The man _knows_ what he’s doing.  I say that as _fact_.”

Laila Stiles’ dark eyes followed Thomas as he rounded the table serving.

“Word is that Valley of the Kings is depleted,” said Sir Mark.  “That this Tutankhamen’s tomb will never be found.”

As Thomas paused to serve Lady Stiles, he felt something softly brush the back of his thigh and quickly realized it was Laila’s hand.

“Time will tell,” said David.  “However, I’d put my money on Carter.”

“That’s just it,” Sir Mark harped.  “How much _longer_ will Carnarvon’s patience last before he pulls the purse strings?”

“Why don’t you ask your ‘circle,’ Papa?” David said, looking at this father.

Sir Mark muttered something under his breath and went back to eating.

“Laila, darling,” Lady Stiles said.  “What have you been doing with yourself lately?”

“Visiting with old friends, Gran,” said Laila.  She shot Thomas a quick glance, “and looking to make new ones….”

“There’s a clever girl,” said Lady Stiles.  “You never know _where_ a new social connection will lead.  You could end up with a _brilliant_ marriage.”

“Yes,” said Laila, amused.  “Among other things.”

Lady Stiles smiled approvingly.

On the way back down the kitchen, Jimmy said, “She’s sweet on ya, Thomas.”

Thomas chuckled.  “That’s _one_ way of putting it….”

@@@

That night, Thomas and Jimmy were asleep in the butler’s bed when there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Now what?” Thomas breathed.  “One moment, please,” he called.  He shook Jimmy awake.  “Closet,” he whispered.  He turned on the small lamp by the bed.

“Mr. Barrow?” came a feminine voice.  “It’s Laila.”

Thomas put on his dressing gown, and Jimmy stepped into the closet and shut the door.  Both men had been naked, having made love just a few hours earlier.

Thomas unlocked his door and opened it partially.  “What’s _wrong,_ M’Lady?  Is it Sir Mark?”

“No,” said Laila.  “Nothing like that.”  She slipped past Thomas into the room and looked around.  “So this is where you live.”

“You _really_ shouldn't be in here, M'Lady,” said Thomas, flustered.  “It’s quite _inappropriate_.”

“So am _I_ , Mr. Barrow.”  The girl grinned and looked around.  “It’s rather _expected_ of me now.”

“I don’t believe your father or grandparents would approve at all,” Thomas continued, growing increasingly uncomfortable.  “And they’d likely blame _me_.”

“No worries,” said Laila, examining Thomas’ books.  “I know how to keep a secret.”  She turned to Thomas, who was right behind her. 

“You are simply the most _beautiful_ man I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen _plenty_.”  She threw her arms around Thomas’ neck.  The butler gently removed them.

“M’Lady, _please_.  You really should leave _right now_.”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” Laila asked.  “Most men do.”

“That’s _not_ the point,” said Thomas.  “You _shouldn’t_ be in here.”

The girl looked very bothered by Thomas’ rejection of her.  She looked away and then sat on Thomas’ bed.  Her eyes returned to Thomas.  “Don’t you like me?” she asked.

Thomas wasn’t quite sure what to say.  He’d never encountered a girl so young who was so _forward_.  “You’re very nice,” he finally said, “but you _shouldn’t_ be in my room.  _Please_ … we’ll both be in _serious_ trouble if you’re found here.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud crash inside the closet.  Laila beat Thomas to the door and opened it.  There stood Jimmy, naked and with shoes falling down on him from the shelf above.  He’d pulled a coat on a hanger over his lower half.

Laila’s hand flew to her mouth, and she began laughing.  She backed up to Thomas’ bed and sat, laughing until tears ran down her cheeks.

Thomas handed Jimmy his dressing gown, and Jimmy hurriedly put it on.  Both men looked terribly distressed.

“I _understand_ now,” Laila finally said, catching her breath.  

“ _Please_ don’t tell, M’Lady,” Thomas pleaded.  “We’ll be dismissed for sure.”

“Oh, _never_ ,” said Laila.  “This is rather a _relief_ , actually.”

The men looked puzzled.

“You weren’t rejecting _me_ , Mr. Barrow,” Laila explained.  “You were rejecting my _gender_.”

Thomas grinned a bit, and he and Jimmy relaxed.

“I’ll go now,” said Laila, standing up.  “And I’m sorry to have disturbed both of you.”

She was about to open the door, when Thomas asked, “Your father and grandfather, M’Lady….”

Laila paused and turned.  “Yes…?”  The way she said it made Thomas think she welcomed the inquiry.

“There seems to be _tension_ between them.”

“Grandfather doesn’t approve of Papa,” Laila said.

“Why?” Thomas asked.

Laila put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door.  “He considers Papa a disappointment: he was never good at sports, didn't serve in the military, studied history and archeology instead of law or medicine, and--the _worst_ sin of all--he married my mother, an _Afghan_.”

“I _knew_ it,” said Jimmy.

Laila looked at him quizzically.

“We were trying to figure out where _you_ came from,” Thomas explained.  “You’re very beautiful, you know.  You don’t look at _all_ like your father.”

Laila chuckled, obviously used to this observation and comments on her beauty.  “My mother was beautiful, too, of course, which is why my father married her.  They met while he was on one of his digs.  She was the daughter of an Afghan official.  Pale little Englishmen and their endless fascination with _brown_ women.  That’s how people like me come about, isn’t it…?”

Thomas grinned at this precocious girl and thought how right she was. 

“Yer grandparents seem t’dote on ya,” said Jimmy.

“I suppose,” Laila said.  “Gran does, anyway.  Grandfather considers my mother, half my blood, the _enemy_.  He carries on about those brown bastards and swarthy savages, but they’re _part_ of me.  My grandfather hates part of _me_ , he just won’t admit it.  He hated my mother, and he hates part of me.”  Her eyes came to rest on Thomas’ nightstand, and she looked at him beguilingly.

“Can I have one of _those?_ ” 

Thomas followed her gaze to the package of cigarettes.

“Only if you don’t tell anyone,” said Thomas.  He fetched her a smoke, which she took, and lit it for her.  

“What about your dad?” Jimmy asked.

“My father’s life is teaching and tombs,” Laila said.  She took a drag off the smoke. 

“Surely he loves you,” said Thomas.

“Yes,” said Laila.  “He’s just not sure what to _do_ with me.  Gran talks about brilliant marriages, but what respectable English family wants their son married to a half Afghan?”

The men were quiet, as she had a valid point. 

Laila took another drag and exhaled. “I’m an exotic creature that aristocratic men like to admire before they move on to someone more ‘suitable.’”  She handed the smoke to Thomas and opened the door. 

“Good night, Mr. Barrow and Mr. Kent,” she said, smiling.  “And sleep well, your secret is safe with me.”  Then she left, closing the door behind her.

“Never heard a girl sound so _old_ ,” said Jimmy.  “Like she’s seen too much.”

“With her family, she probably has,” said Thomas.

@@@

On the morning of the doctor’s appointment, Lady Stiles, Sir Mark, and David were about to get into David’s car, when Sir Mark suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To see the specialist,” replied Lady Stiles.  “David and I are taking you.” 

Jimmy had opened the car’s back door and stood ready to assist.

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Sir Mark yelled.  He turned and began walking back towards the house.

“Mark!” Lady Stiles called.  “Mark!  Come back!

David went after Sir Mark and tried to turn him around.  “Come get in the car, Papa.”

“No!” Sir Mark yelled, roughly shrugging off his son’s hands.  “I’m not going _anywhere!_ ”

“Mark, please…,” Lady Stiles begged.  She looped her arm around his and tried to draw him back with her.

“Stop it, Eleanor!” Sir Mark yelled, pushing her away.  “Stop it!” 

David grabbed his father’s shoulders, got up in his face, and yelled, “Get in the _bloody_ car, Papa!”

Both men glared at each other furiously for several moments.  Sir Mark’s mouth was stubbornly set, and he didn’t budge.

“ _Now!_ ” yelled David. 

Sir Mark grunted angrily, pulled himself out of his son’s grip, and huffed back to the car, muttering under his breath. 

Jimmy watched all this and scowled.

@@@

The following night, Thomas and Jimmy stood out on the side terrace sharing a smoke.

Sir Mark had come down to the servants’ quarters again the night before, this time with an _entire_ bottle of bourbon rather than just a flask.  He’d actually played a hand of poker before leaving and had “neglected” to take the bourbon with him.  (Thomas had conveniently set it on the floor, out of sight.)  That evening, Thomas and Jimmy had each downed several shots, so even though it was cold as they passed the cigarette between them, neither much _felt_ it.

"I don't like the way Mr. Stiles treats his dad,” Jimmy said.  “He’s rough and impatient.  Sure, the old man’s daft, but he can’t help tha’ n’ he’s all right most of the time.”

Thomas blew out a stream of smoke and looked at the footman.

“Him n’ the ol’ lady are just lonely,” Jimmy continued.  “Livin’ out here all on their own.”

“Careful, love,” said Thomas, tapping off the ashes.  “Remember how Sir Mark treated David that first night at dinner?  And then what Laila told us?  How Sir Mark treats _us_ and how he treats his _son_ are two _different_ things.  Phyllis used to say how kind my father was to _her_ , but he was _never_ that way to _me_.  Quite the _opposite_.  He used to belittle and criticize me, often in front of others.  He made it very clear that I was _not_ the son he’d hoped for.”

“Even so, David’s lucky he’s still got his parents,” Jimmy said.  “He can help ‘em now tha’ they’re old.  He can make things _right_ with his dad if he wants.  He’s had _years_ with ‘em.  Mine never even saw fifty n’ I’d give _anythin'_ fer another _day_ with ‘em.  One more Sunday walk n’ visit to the bakery.”  Jimmy's voice broke.

“At least you have those lovely memories,” Thomas said gently.  “Memories of parents who _adored_ you.”

“Aye,” Jimmy said tearfully, “but I also know what I've _lost_ _._ ”  He sobbed.  “I _hate_ this time of year, Thomas.  _Truly_ , I do.”

“I think a lot of people hate it, except perhaps for children.  Christmas really is for children.”

" _One_ more Christmas with m'folks,” Jimmy choked out.  He looked off into the darkness, deep pain registering on his face as he broke down.  “What _wouldn’t_ I give….”

Thomas dropped the smoke and crushed it out with his shoe.  He put his arms around the blond.  "I'm your family now, Jimmy, and you're mine.  We'll make _new_ memories.  _Good_ ones." 

Jimmy nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve.  Thomas clicked his tongue and gave him a handkerchief.  Jimmy chuckled and blew his nose loudly….

 

From the balcony above, David Stiles had heard every word of their conversation.  Rather than being furious that his parents' servants were discussing him and Sir Mark, he considered what he'd overheard and looked thoughtful....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cool fact, Lord Carnarvon's family are the residents of Downtown's Highclere Castle. Lord Carnarvon was the one funding the King Tut excavation, and the tomb was finally discovered in 1922.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch, and it's a big chapter, too! I'll be curious to see the feedback on it, as a lot happens. Hopefully you guys like how the story ends!

The specialist in York confirmed what they already suspected; Sir Mark had dementia, which would likely only get worse.  All they could do was look after him and try to keep him safe.  The latter was easier said than done.  Even with dementia, Sir Mark was able to slip away at night to unearth his various military relics or liquor stashes, and then wander about.  If it was just downstairs to visit Thomas and Jimmy, that was all right, as they appreciated the fine drink he brought (and thanks to Thomas, always _left_ ), and the men ensured that he went back to his room afterwards.

But if he got outside, the household had to go searching the grounds for him, and usually found him hiding from the Afghans or sitting somewhere staring off blankly.

They tried tying his wrist to the bed post, but no matter how intricate the knot, he would manage to undo it.  Lady Stiles tried putting a chair in front of the bedroom door, but Sir Mark would remove that, too, and do it _quietly_. 

Dementia or no, he was still a _very_ resourceful old gentleman.

 

David and Laila convinced Sir Mark and Lady Stiles to spend Christmas in London with them rather than having Christmas there at the estate.  Mrs. Jenkins was going, too, and Elsie was taking time off for the holiday.

This meant that Thomas and Jimmy would be alone at the estate from Christmas Eve through New Year’s Day.  They would have to do their own cooking, cleaning, and laundry.  Mrs. Jenkins ensured they had plenty of food for the week.  She left game hens for Christmas dinner and ham for New Year’s Eve.

The Stileses weren’t even gone fifteen minutes before Thomas brought up the bourbon and Jimmy began playing the piano and singing at the top of his lungs.  Later they played Laila’s records on the Victrola.

“We can _dance_ , Thomas,” Jimmy suddenly realized.  He grinned at the butler.  “We can dance… _together._ ”

Thomas smiled, stood up, and offered the footman his hand.  “May I have this dance?”

“Let me check m’card.”  Jimmy grinned, took Thomas’ hand, and they began to dance.  At first, both men tried to lead, but then, they took turns.  The dancing was terribly romantic, and if there hadn’t been a beef stew cooking that smelled delicious and was soon to be done, it would’ve likely led to other things.  To be so _free_ in the big house was terribly exciting.   

After dinner, the men lit a fire in the music room fireplace and stretched out to continue drinking.  Jimmy disappeared for a while, then came marching in wearing an old army-officer’s uniform and white helmet.  The uniform had a blue jacket with gold buttons down the front, and tan pants.  At his side was a sword in its scabbard.  The uniform fit almost perfectly, which made sense, as Sir Mark had, in his youth, been around Jimmy’s height and build.

The butler gasped.  

“How do I look, Thomas?”

“ _Blimey_ , where’d you find _that_?

“In the attic,” said Jimmy.  “There’s a big trunk full o’ ol’ _stoof_.  Saw it when I were puttin’ things away a few weeks back.  Been wantin’ t’try it on.”

Jimmy saluted, turned, and marched around the room.  Then he stopped, drew the sword, held it up in the air, and yelled like a wild man.  It echoed throughout the house.

Thomas coolly puffed on his smoke and regarded Jimmy with half-shut, drunken eyes.  “I hope you _never_ have to fight in a war, love,” he said wistfully.  “But you look like you just fell off a Christmas tree.  Good enough to _eat_.”

Jimmy did a wide, sweeping motion with the sword, jabbed at an imaginary foe, and yelled again.  “I look like Douglas Fairbanks, eh, Thomas?”

“You need to put that _away_ before you slice off something _important_ ,” Thomas said in the same calm tone.

Jimmy carefully slipped the sword back into its scabbard.  “I want to give ya yer present,” he said.  He set the sword and helmet down and ran out of the room.

“Get yours, too!” Thomas yelled.  “It’s under the bed!”

Jimmy returned with both gifts and his pajama bottoms.  He had undone the buttons on the uniform, revealing his undershirt.  He made a face, scratching himself, took off the uniform, and slipped on the pajama bottoms.  “Bloody _uncomfortable_ ,” he whined.

“It likely needs a _good_ cleaning,” said Thomas.

Jimmy flopped down beside Thomas.  He handed the butler his present.

“You first,” he said eagerly.

Thomas pulled off the wrapping to reveal two books.  “Ah,” he said, grinning.  “ _Jungle Tales of Tarzan_ and _Tarzan the Untamed_.  I’ve been wanting to read these.”  

“Me, too,” said Jimmy, and they both laughed.

Jimmy ripped the bow and paper off of his own present.

It was a thick, fancy photograph album with a rounded, blue-velvet cover and raised, white, celluloid letters in a fancy scroll that said “Album.”  On the side was an ornate silver latch to hold the album closed.  Inside were thick, cardboard pages that had cutouts for the photos.  Each cutout was delicately edged in gold to frame the picture.   

“I thought you might put your family photographs in it and any photos we might have in the future,” Thomas said.

Jimmy sniffed and wiped his eyes.  “It’s beautiful, Thomas.  _Love_ it.”  He threw his arms around the butler’s neck and gave him a big, sloppy kiss.  Thomas slid his arms around Jimmy and began kissing him deeply.  He tried to draw him down on the rug, but the blond deftly slipped from his grasp and ran from the room.       

“Jimmy!” Thomas yelled, too lazy with liquor to chase after him.  “Jimmy?”

A few minutes later, he heard the footman calling for him.  Groaning, Thomas struggled to his feet and strolled into the foyer.  

Jimmy was at the top of the stairs, straddling the banister.  Grinning his curly grin, he leaned forward, lifted his legs, and went sliding down the long, winding banister, his arse smacking into the finial at the bottom.  He laughed like a child.

“You try it, Thomas!”

Thomas looked smug.  “I’m the _butler_ , Jimmy _._   I do have _some_ dignity, you know.”

“Bull _shite_!” Jimmy yelled.  He headed upstairs for another go.  “Get up here _now_ n’ slide down this bloody banister with me.”

Thomas didn’t budge. 

Jimmy mounted the banister and looked down at him.

“Thomaaaaaas!” he yelled.  “C’mon, it’s _fun!_   _Please_ …?”    

Thomas grunted and trudged up the stairs.  He climbed on in front of Jimmy, leaned forward, and held the railing.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this…,” he muttered, but he looked amused.

The men lifted their legs and went flying down the banister.  Jimmy smacked into the round finial, knocking it _off_ , and both men ended up sprawled out on their arses.  The finial rolled past them as they sat on the carpet.

Jimmy’s eyes were huge, and his mouth slack with surprise.  “ _Blimey_ , Thomas!” he yelled.  “I broke th’ feckin’ banister!”

“Not to worry, love,” Thomas said, getting to his feet.  He picked up the finial and pushed it back down on the baluster, where it fit neatly onto a peg.  “After I polish it later, you’ll never even know it came off.”

Jimmy wrapped his arms around Thomas’ waist, kissed his neck, and rested his head against his back.

“So bloody _clever_ …,” he said.   

“And _you_ are so bloody _drunk_ ,” Thomas said.  He led Jimmy back to the fireplace and pulled him down on the rug.  “I want my way with you now,” he murmured, slipping off Jimmy’s shirt and pajama bottoms, and then his own. 

He took Jimmy in his arms and began kissing him ardently, snaking his tongue deep into his mouth and stroking his body.  Jimmy responded by pressing against Thomas and meeting his tongue with his own.  Thomas kissed Jimmy’s neck and jaw, and sucked his earlobes, which drew moans from the blond.

Thomas had snagged some mineral oil from the bathroom, and he fumbled around the blankets until he found it.  He poured some into his palm and applied it to his and Jimmy’s erections and torsos.  Then he aligned their hardons and began slowly grinding and sliding against the blond, urging his legs apart with his knee.

Jimmy moaned loudly and wrapped a leg around Thomas.  He grabbed Thomas’ arse, pressing him closer as he rocked forward and slid from side to side.  The sensation was _heavenly_ , and Jimmy closed his eyes and gasped. 

Seeing Jimmy so undone made Thomas’ loins _ache_ , and his own breathing became heavy and ragged.  He moaned low and in time to his moves, pulsing and sliding against Jimmy in slow circles, until both their cocks were leaking profusely.  

Thomas moved lower so he could gently slip a greasy finger into Jimmy’s arse, stroke his cock, and kiss his nipples.  He could feel Jimmy’s thigh trembling against his arm as he did this, and the blond yelped and panted like a puppy, his hand gripping Thomas’ hair frantically.

By the time Thomas entered Jimmy, the blond was so _relaxed_ , there was _no_ resistance, and he pushed against Thomas immediately to take more of him.

On his knees now, Thomas slipped a pillow under Jimmy and began to pump him in earnest.  Jimmy took his own cock in hand and began stroking it, watching as Thomas thrust into him.  The butler’s pale skin grew flushed, and his red mouth worked wordlessly in concentration.  He’d gasp every few thrusts, obviously enjoying watching Jimmy as much as Jimmy was enjoying watching him.  Nothing turned Jimmy on more than watching Thomas become undone.  He was so controlled and composed most of the time that Jimmy found watching him fuck or being fucked particularly satisfying because -- composure be damned -- Thomas _really_ got into it.  When Jimmy had been a boy, he’d loved jumping on freshly made beds just to muss them up.  Watching Thomas was sort of like that (only more intense, of course).

Jimmy pulled Thomas down for a kiss, and the butler jammed his tongue into the blond’s mouth and gently sucked his lips.  A few seconds later, Jimmy climaxed, cum overflowing onto his hand as he continued to stroke and Thomas continued to pump.  Jimmy closed his eyes and howled loudly several times as he rode out his orgasm.  Then Thomas came, thrusting deep inside of Jimmy.  He also yelled out, relishing that for now, anyway, they could fuck as loud as they wanted.

Thomas pulled out and grabbed the first rag he found, which happened to be Jimmy’s undershirt, to clean himself up with.

Quirking his eyebrows, Jimmy grabbed Thomas’ undershirt, lifted his leg gracelessly, and wiped his arse crack with it. 

Thomas lay on his side watching him.  “I suppose we’re even now,” he said, eyeing his shirt.  Jimmy met his gaze, and they both burst out laughing.  Then Jimmy moved closer to kiss Thomas and drape an arm around him.  Thomas reached up to push Jimmy’s sweaty curls off his forehead.

They stared at each other for a long time in the firelight.  There was no need for words.  They were both happier and more content than they’d been in a _very_ long time.  

Jimmy closed his eyes first, then Thomas.  Soon, they were both asleep.

@@@

Thomas raised his head.  The fire had gone down, and the weak, morning light was coming through the far window.

He and Jimmy were lying under a pile of tangled blankets, and Jimmy's bare arsecheeks were peaking out.  That and his hair were all Thomas could see of him.  Thomas moved on his stomach right up to the arse, grabbed the bow from Jimmy’s gift, and stuck it on one of the cheeks.

"Why, look what Father Christmas brought me!"  Thomas began smooching Jimmy's perky arsecheeks.

Jimmy wriggled and chuckled within the twist of blankets.  "Happy Christmas, Thomas."

"Happy Christmas, Jimmy."

Thomas got to his feet and put on his clothes (sans undershirt).  He added more wood to the fire and began stoking it.  “Bloody _freezing_ ….”

Jimmy sighed.  "Would surely love some tea...," he said sweetly.  "And maybe a little breakfast...."

Thomas looked up from the fireplace.  "Such as...?"

Jimmy didn't lift his head.  Thomas could still only see his hair.

"I dunno...eggs n' toast, I guess.  Perhaps some bacon.  Bit o' potatoes would be nice...."

Thomas didn't reply.

Jimmy raised his head to look at him.

"Please, m'love...?  We'll call it even on 'em donuts ya owe me."

Thomas surveyed Jimmy, lying there wrapped up in the blankets with his naked arsecheeks, and grinned.

 _I suppose he's_ my _little prince now...._

"All right, I'll make breakfast, but you'll have to come downstairs to eat it.  You also have to help me clean up."

"Deal."

Thomas swatted Jimmy on his arse.

"And put some bloody clothes on."

Jimmy groaned in protest.

@@@

They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast in the warm kitchen.  As they washed and dried the dishes, Jimmy imagined that they were in their _own_ house. 

 _This is what it would be like living with Thomas_ , he thought.

He _liked_ it.

Afterwards, they took a much-needed bath together and put the soiled clothes and blankets in to soak. 

They went outside to play in the snow, each attempting to drop it down the other’s pants and shirt.

Then they came inside, made love again, dozed, and began preparing their dinner, putting the game hens in to roast, and peeling potatoes and carrots.  They considered eating in the large dining room upstairs, but it was too cold, so they ate in warmth of the kitchen again.

“Thomas, what’d ya suppose they’re doin’ at the Abbey right now?” Jimmy asked.

“Likely finishing up their Christmas feast so they can serve dinner upstairs,” Thomas replied.  “Carson probably made some long-winded toast, and then nobody can drink much because they have to work afterwards.”

“I’d rather be here instead,” Jimmy said, grinning.  “I’m _glad_ we got sacked.” 

“So am I,” Thomas said.  “Our cooking may not be as good as Mrs. Patmore’s, but at least we can take our time enjoying it.”

 

The rest of the week had a similar, dreamlike quality.  Two days before the family was due to return, the men began cleaning, washing, and polishing.

“It were a nice Christmas n’ New Year’s, Thomas,” Jimmy said as they folded clean blankets.

“Yes.”  Thomas smiled at Jimmy.  “It was.”   

@@@

The Stiles family returned on January 2nd.  They’d had a nice holiday, too.  David had shown his parents where he worked, including the lecture hall, and some of his archeological finds, which were kept under glass.  Sir Mark found it all quite interesting, though he made it clear he _still_ would’ve preferred David had become a doctor or lawyer.

The following week, Thomas was awakened in the middle of the night by someone shaking him.

“Mr. Barrow!”

It was Mrs. Jenkins.  He’d obviously forgotten to lock his door, which sometimes happened on nights Jimmy didn’t sleep with him.

“What’s happened?” Thomas asked, turning on the lamp.

“It’s Sir Mark again,” said Mrs. Jenkins, “and he’s _truly_ gone off the hinges now!”

Thomas put on his shoes.  “Where is he?” 

“O _n the roof!_ ”

“But _how?”_

“Out the attic window,” said Mrs. Jenkins.  “That’s the only way to get out there.”

Thomas fumbled through his closet, retrieved the jacket of his army uniform, and put it on over his shirt.

“Wake Jimmy, will you?” Thomas asked Mrs. Jenkins as he left the room.

The rest of the family was up in the attic.

“We can’t get him to come inside,” said David, descending the ladder that was positioned up through the window.  “He won’t even talk to us.”  

“What if he falls?” Lady Stiles sobbed.    

Thomas climbed the ladder and stuck his head out the window.  Dressed in his uniform, Sir Mark was about fifteen feet away, sitting against the chimney.  He was moaning and crying in terrible grief.

“Captain Stiles…,” Thomas called, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud that he might startle the old man.

Sir Mark did not respond.  Thomas asked for the lantern and then climbed higher so that his upper body was protruding from the window.  He held up the light to illuminate his uniform.

“Captain Stiles!” Thomas called, louder this time.  “It’s Lance Sergeant Barrow, sir!”

“Barrow!” exclaimed Sir Mark, snapping to attention.  He looked at Thomas, and Thomas saluted.

“I’m part of a search party!” said Thomas.   “We’ve been looking for you, sir!”

Sir Mark’s face twisted in anguish, and his shoulders slumped.  “They _killed_ him, Barrow.  Those swarthy, savage bastards.  They _murdered_ my dear Sir Louis!  My friend, Sir Louis!  My dear friend….”

Sir Mark covered his face with his hand and sobbed.  It was heartbreaking.  Thomas wanted to hold the man, to comfort him, to tell him that he, too, knew what it was to lose people in a war….   

Instead he yelled, “That report is _incorrect_ , Captain Stiles.  Major Cavagnari is alive and safe!”    

Sir Mark looked at Thomas, confused.  “Sir Louis is _safe?_ But _how?_ ”

“You _rescued_ him, sir!” Thomas declared.  “You and your son, Lieutenant David Stiles.  You got him out through a secret passage behind the Residency.  You and David did it _together_.”

Sir Mark’s eyes widened. “We _did?_ ”

“Yes, sir!  It was quite an act of bravery!  Afterwards, you were in shock, and you ran away.  The entire unit has been searching for you!”

The old man stared into Thomas’ eyes, and Thomas looked as truthful and sincere as they came.  For once, his gift for _deceit_ was being put to a _noble_ cause.

“We saved Sir Louis?  My boy David and I?”  Sir Mark was crying again, but these were tears of _joy_.  “David.  Ah, my son, my son!  We _saved_ Sir Louis.”

“Come with me, sir,” said Thomas, extending his hand.  “David is here, and tomorrow, you will see Sir Louis!” 

Sir Mark tried to move to the window, but he was unsteady.

“Let me assist you, Captain Stiles,” Thomas said.  He handed the lantern down to Jimmy and climbed out onto the roof.

“Careful, Thomas,” Jimmy said.

The butler carefully moved closer to Sir Mark and held out his hand, which Sir Mark took.  When he was closer, Thomas gripped the man’s arms, guiding him back in through the window.  David and Jimmy helped the old man down the ladder.

Sir Mark gazed at David with joy.  “My boy, my boy.  We _saved_ Sir Louis!”  Sir Mark embraced David and wept.  David held his father.

“Yes, Papa,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.  “We saved Sir Louis.”  David looked at Thomas with heartfelt gratitude.

Lady Stiles took her husband’s face in her hands and kissed him.  She put a blanket around him and rubbed his arms to warm him up. 

“What if he asks about Sir Louis?” Mrs. Jenkins whispered.  “Wants to see him?”

“He won’t remember this tomorrow,” Thomas said quietly, “and he’s happy for _now_ ” --he glanced at David-- “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“You’re a _good_ man, Mr. Barrow,” said David.  “Is _your_ father still around?”  

“No,” said Thomas, smiling softly.  “He and my mother both passed some years ago. 

“I’m sure he was _quite_ proud of you,” said David.  “I imagine _both_ your parents were.”

Thomas looked very pleased, indeed.

 

Thomas and Jimmy were quiet as they returned to Thomas’ bedroom.  As Thomas hung up his uniform jacket, Jimmy sat on the bed watching him.

“Tha’ was a _fine_ thing ya did, Thomas,” he finally said.  “I’m so _very_ proud of ya.”

Thomas stopped to look at Jimmy.  “Truly…?”

Jimmy nodded, his expression one of pure adoration.

Thomas sat next to him, and the two men embraced.  Thomas began to cry.    

“M’Thomas,” Jimmy murmured stroking Thomas’ hair.  “M’good n’ kind Thomas.  I _love_ you _so_ ….”

@@@

Two years passed, and David Stiles friend, Howard Carter, did indeed discover King Tutankhamen’s tomb, which was largely intact and full of wonderful artifacts.  The discovery was a big hoopla worldwide, impacting everything from furnishings to fashion.          

David and Laila were invited to Egypt to actually see the tomb firsthand.  While there, one of the British officials, who happened to be a quarter Indian, became enamored of Laila, and asked if he might court her.  The attraction was mutual, so now, Laila had a fine suitor who called on her regularly.

Sir Mark’s dementia did indeed grow worse and eventually, he was no longer able to get around and do for himself.  As a trained medic, Thomas offered to help in his care, so he, David, and a nurse David had hired shared the duties.  Thomas was also someone Sir Mark _knew_ when he was having one of his spells, calling him “good man Barrow.”

There came a point when Sir Mark didn’t recognize Laila.  When he’d see her, he’d scream about savages.  David tried to explain it.

“During the war, the Afghan women used to torture and execute captured British soldiers in horrific ways, so for Papa, that association was always _there_.  It didn’t help when I _married_ an Afghan woman…but, _oh_ , she was _amazing,_ Thomas.  Beautiful and clever and kind.”  David looked sad, but his eyes were shining at the memory.

“Sounds like Miss Laila takes after her,” Thomas commented.

David smiled.  “Very much so, but she has my father’s spirit.”

“Grandfather?” Laila said, her voice trembling. 

Sir Mark just stared at her in terror.

David stroked his father’s thin hair.  “It’s Laila, Papa,” he said soothingly.  “Your granddaughter, remember?  Baby Lala?”

“Baby Lala?” the old man repeated weakly.  “Baby Lala...?” 

Laila came closer, and Sir Mark touched her face, smiling in recognition. 

“It’s me, Grandfather,” she said.  “It’s Baby Lala.” 

He nodded, still smiling. 

She kissed him, and he stroked her hair.  “Baby Lala….”

@@@

Sir Mark passed away just shy of 77.  It was a military funeral, with the coffin draped in the Union Jack, pipers, escort, etc.  The church was literally packed, and the attendees included Lord and Lady Grantham, the Dowager, Howard Carter, and the Carnarvons of Highclere.

During the eulogy David spoke of his and his father’s differences, but how they’d mended their relationship in the final years.  He glanced at Thomas and Jimmy as he said this.  He also talked of how his parents had enjoyed a long and happy life together.  Jimmy had put his folded overcoat between him and Thomas in the pew, and under it, he touched Thomas' hand during this part of the eulogy, giving it a little squeeze, which Thomas returned….

 

A week later, David told Thomas and Jimmy that Lady Stiles was going to live in London with him and Laila, and Mrs. Jenkins would be joining them. 

“Would you both stay on to maintain the house?” David asked.  “Elsie will come several times a month to wash and clean, and I’ll be down, as well, to go through my parents’ things.”

“Of course, Mr. Stiles,” said Thomas.  “We’d be happy to assist with whatever you need, even sorting through things if you like.”

David grinned.  “Laila has also expressed an interest in living here after she and Mr. Ellsworth are married.  She’s already _insisting_ that you two run the house.  You’ve obviously made _quite_ an impression on her.”

Thomas had to suppress a smile, as his and Jimmy’s encounters with Laila were usually downstairs or out on the terrace, hearing about her latest hijinks in London over shared cigarettes.

“We’d be honored to serve Miss Laila,” he said.

“Oh, and my mother wants you two to have one of my father’s cars,” said David.  “The Model T.  It’s in excellent condition, it just hasn’t been driven in many years.”

@@@

Tom Branson circled the Ford Model T, his eyes shining.  “Tin Lizzie,” he declared.  “1913 or thereabouts, I’m guessin’.  What a beauty.”

“It’s been sitting in this garage for years,” said Thomas.  “Covered, but still, is it even drivable?”

Tom rolled up his sleeves and opened his tool box.  “We’ll see…,” he said.

Thomas held the lantern, and he and Jimmy watched as Tom Branson thoroughly checked the car.

“The engine is in good shape,” Tom said.  “Fortunately, the car was properly prepared for storage, and all it needs are fluids, lubing, and tuning.  Gas for the lamps, too.  And a cleaning.”

Within a month, the car was ready to go, and Thomas spoke with David.

“Jimmy and I would like to take a holiday.  We’ve never taken one, and we would like to take one together,” --he quickly added-- “being best mates and all.”

David grinned.  “I _know_ about you and Jimmy, Thomas.”

Thomas went ashen. “Did Miss Laila tell you, sir?”

“No, I overheard you and Jimmy talking one night.”

Thomas just looked at David, not sure what to say.

“I _know_ what it’s like to have people hate you because of _who_ you love,” David said.  “I would _never_ do that to anyone else, much less two men who’ve been as good to my family as you both have.”

"Thank you, Mr. Stiles," Thomas said.

"Thank _you_ , Thomas," said David.  "Thank _you..._."

 

On the morning of their departure, Thomas and Jimmy tied their bags onto the back of the car and literally cranked up the engine.

“We’ll see you in a week,” Thomas told David.

“ _Two_ weeks,” Jimmy quickly interjected.

“Two weeks it is,” David said, nodding.

Thomas and Jimmy climbed into the seat, and Jimmy eagerly started down the drive. 

“Have ya decided where we’re goin’, Thomas?” he asked. 

“To the seaside,” the butler replied. 

“Aye, but _which_ seaside?” said Jimmy.  “Southend, Brighton, Bristol, or do we want to maybe try fer Cornwall now?  Got  plenty o’ time.”   

“I _still_ haven’t decided,” Thomas said, smiling.  “Let’s keep it a mystery for now.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, and slipped his other arm across the seat behind Jimmy.  “Head _south_ , love, and just _drive_ ….”

@@@

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it! The End!
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read this story, and for the feedback, kudos, subscriptions, etc. It means a lot.


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